Opera Populaire
by KyraX
Summary: A playwright writes the story of a gamin girl ready to be rid of her name and a revolutionary struggling in his cause. The monarchist regime hunts down a newly-forming rebellion group. Survivors and newcomers gather in Paris just so they can live. The observing playwright records it all. Enjolras/Eponine
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

In the quiet, cobblestone streets of Paris, three little night-crawlers crept their way between alleys and roads. They were small. They were quick. They did not make a sound. None of the Parisian dwellers awoke from their beds as the three dashed across roofs and houses. Three young children, all little boys, soon found their way to a modest sized theater with its bulky wooden doors closed. The leader child smirked and scurried his way past the bulky doors through a small crack in the windows. His companions quickly followed after him, not knowing what resided in such a small opera house. They marveled in wonder of the vast amounts of empty seats, a dusty stage, and a grand chandelier that hung from the ceiling. The leader let out a huge grin, shouted a loud "Yahoo!" and raced his way towards the stage.

"Gavroche! What are you doing?" One of his friends hissed.

"We'll be as good as dead if someone finds us here!" His other subordinate followed suit.

"You'll be roasted in an open pit if your father finds out!"

Gavroche laughed. His bellows echoed in the empty theater, scaring the wits out of his fellow friends. "Fear not! Quentin. Rosseau. This opera house is obviously abandoned. I don't think anyone's performed on this stage for quite some time now. In fact, we can make this place our personal playground."

"But the person who owns this place will not allow it!" Quentin whispered.

"Says who?"

"Says me!" A loud and rather annoyed voice bellowed from behind them all.

A large figure wearing a dark maroon gown with a ruby cane appeared from the back entrance. She was a middle-aged woman with dark black hair tied up into a bun. She had a very stern face as If it were made from stone. She angrily stomped her way down the aisle. The boys tried to scramble up onto the stage, but she caught onto poor Rosseau before he even climbed the steps.

The little boy, Gavroche, ran back and pounded the lady at her legs. "Hey! Unhand my comrade! Hag!"

The lady frowned at him and gently put Rosseau into one of the seats. She gestured for both Quentin and Gavroche to follow for she was not going to let them go that easily. "Who are you? What are you doing in my theater?" She sternly demanded.

"Exploring." Gavroche quipped.

"Exploring? Nonsense! What can you explore in a theater house?" The lady rolled her eyes. "Now come with me! Your guardians must be worried sick that you're out of your beds."

"On the contrary, mother and father are fast asleep in their beds. I shall return before they wake, obviously." Gavroche replied and gestured to his friends. "And these two brothers' guardians are asleep as well."

"Well...little children should not be prowling in the night." The lady said, "Now state your names!"

"The name's Gavroche! And these two are Quentin and Rosseau!" Gavroche proudly said.

"Gavroche?" The lady questioned.

"What is it?" Gavroche asked.

The lady quickly snapped back. "Oh nothing! I guessed being a playwright has its consequences. Where is your mother and father?"

Gavroche gave her a weird look. "I just told you. They are asleep."

"Ah right! Of course!"

"Her attitude literally flipped on her axis." Quentin whispered to his younger brother, Rosseau.

"Maybe her age is finally catching up."

"No, I'm not just old!" The cranky lady snapped at the younger ones. "I'm just busy nowadays. I have a theater to run, plays to produce, and renovations to finish."

"Renovations?" Gavroche sarcastically remarked. He glanced up at the run down roof and the dusty stage, which he predicted hadn't seen an audience in decades.

"Yes. Renovations. This theater will open in the next spring's time." The lady spoke while she held up a rather large book. "In the meantime, I have written an opera piece to be the first work shown here once I reopen."

"What is it about?" Curious Rosseau cutely asked.

"Why! It's a tale of two lovers as they try to survive persecutions and accusations of the rebellion. It's a famous tale, tragic, yet famous. However, I'm editing it right now to make it more...friendly, as the law states." She rolled her eyes and opened the humongous book. "Shall I give you a preview?"

"Nah! Boring!" Gavroche stuck his tongue at her and bolted out the doors.

"Insolent child!" The lady scoffed and turned to the latter two boys. "Would you like to have a listen?"

Both nodded. "Yes ma'am."

She nodded as well, cleared her throat, and began the first page of her tale.

"A long time has passed after the June Rebellions of 1832 and God chose a few lucky survivors to brave on in the disastrous Parisian streets..."

* * *

_Hi! I'm so excited to write this! I've read the book, watched a recording of the 25th concert, and the film. And surprisingly, I never thought of E/E until the movie came out and there were so, so, SO many shipping moments. Now character-wise: I am writing this with the lovely Samantha Barks and the very hot and handsome Aaron Tveit as Eponine and Enjolras respectively in my head. However, you don't have to limit yourselves to these actors when imagining the characters as I'm just going by the book's description. Now, this is just the prologue, nothing much really happens. R/R if you'd like._


	2. ACT I: Scene i

**ACT I: Scene i**

Weeping mothers and wives and children were attempting to continue their day in the bloody streets of Paris. Women, and the men who did not participate, were tasked to remove the furniture piled to build the barricade. The hardest part for them all was to remove the bodies of soldiers on top and the same bodies scattered on the streets. Who would want to even touch the bodies of the monarchy that oppressed them all? Besides, those mothers really wanted to see the poor revolutionary boys laid out neatly, side-by-side, with the youngest gamin at the end. The boys who pranced upon going to school were the same boys wound up in talks of a revolution. They all had mothers. They all had fathers. They were all soon to be engaged. And now...all bonds were severed in their deaths.

And, of course, there were those who didn't care nor had no sense of compassion. These people were beggars, ready to loot through the dead for riches, or people minding their daily business and failed to touch upon a bunch of bleeding bodies. One such woman existed as she ran about the crowds of mourners, passing out handmade pamphlets.

"Come to the newly built Opera Populaire, the grandest opera house this city has ever seen!" She excitedly advertised as she passed out numerous pamphlets.

"Can't you read the air!?" One woman shrieked and angrily yanked the younger one to the ground. "Our children are dead! And you have the audacity to advertise for the arts!? Shame on you!" She angrily turned on her heels and stomped off.

The younger woman of the theater merely stuck out her tongue and gathered her strewn papers. "She's just jealous that I have a job and a bed." She neatly stacked up her pamphlets, fixed her corset and red skirt, and stood up from the bloody streets. "Pamphlets! Pamphlets for the newly opened Opera Populaire!"

A pale woman stirred from the racket of the yelling opera girl. She was noisy! Really noisy! So much so, half of the hospital woke up from her yelling!

"Tell that racket outside to shut her mouth!" A cranky old man bellowed and one of the nurses complied immediately.

The young woman finally broke out of her feverish state and rose from her bed. Her bones have grown weak, fragile, and brittle, while her muscles have shrunk by a considerable amount. She was even thinner than her time as a gamin on the streets! She didn't know that was even possible!

"Mademoiselle! A male patron worriedly ran up to her and set her down. "You must not act so rashly now. You might collapse."

"Where am I?" She heaved out in long drags of breath. Her shoulder, wrapped up in bandages, was numbing her arm.

"May I ask who you are?"

"Jondrette. Eponine Jondrette." She replied, mindful that the Thernardier name was not well received in Paris.

"Mademoiselle Jondrette, you have been ill for six months now. Our dear men found a bullet lodged into your shoulder and you were quite lucky to survive without any organs punctured. A simple suture was all it took to fix you up." Her male patron, whom she now knew was her doctor, answered back. "Now, may I ask, what's a lady like you doing with those rebels?"

"I was only delivering a message." She lied.

"To them?"

"No." She gritted her teeth, remembering Marius' somber face once he received Cosette's letter. "To a dear friend who lives there."

"Well, you can send a message notifying your dear friend that you have been well received." He softly snapped his pamphlet shut and walked out of her room.

Eponine waited till the doctor's footsteps grew faint against the boards that made up her room. She winced and moved her wounded arm slightly, revealing a small coin. One sou. It was not much, but better than nothing. Even through all her troubles, she still had her wits and sticky fingers on her. The doctor was a fool, for one thing. Money was easy-pickings for a young woman like her.

Eponine stuffed her steals into the trousers of her borrowed pants and reached behind to loosen the cloth tightening her midriff. What was the point of pretending like a boy? She couldn't stop Marius from falling in love. She couldn't die with him. She had no idea where anyone in her life was anymore. She was better off dead.

Eponine stared off at her hospital room. Soon, they will kick her out to make room for the wounded. Soon, she will be out in the streets, searching for food, begging for money, just living her miserable life again. And if worse comes to worse, she might need to start whoring herself. That was life...her life.

Eponine's eye wandered out of her open window and towards the skies above. Why did God choose her to live? More than anything, more than life, she wished she was free.

Eponine closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

Her doctor continued his stroll down a white hallway and entered into one room on the far left. Of course, he did not bother to memorize the number or name of this particular room. The number of nurses gushing and swooning was a good enough indicator. "Mademoiselles. Please return to your posts." He calmly said and patiently waited for the nurses to disperse.

Inside laid a barely conscious man with multiple gun wounds in his body. He had brilliant golden curls that shaped his stone face of marble and an intense stare mixed with mourning and regret. He was a man in his twenties, just in the middle of his university years, and here he was, battered and bloodied, a shadow of his former angelic and charismatic self. His barricade was a mistake, a failure, and now, a cause that took the lives of his fellow friends and members of the ABC. Every day, he shall be haunted by the ghosts of his friends, the ghosts of the people he failed, forever in his life.

"Monsieur Enjolras," the doctor acknowledged while he approached the man, "You have been well, I see, your wounds still need some healing, but you finally woke up from your coma. I'll have to thank your friend for giving you such fine first hand medical treatment."

"Who was it?" Enjolras demanded. Could it be? One of his friends survived?

"Yes, his name is Joly? He's here if you'd like a visit." The doctor gestured for another man to come in before shutting his pamphlet shut and walking away.

A man around the same age as him entered his room and sat down beside his leader. He was solemn, hands crossed and eyebrows drawn together, not daring to even speak of their deceased comrades.

"Joly...is it just you?" Enjolras wearily asked.

"Yes...I'm afraid so..." Joly answered. "Along with Marius, but he's been taken by his grandfather."

"Everybody...they..."

"Perished..."

Enjolras sighed, tired and solemn, before lying back down to rest. "I'm alright. You can leave. Go back to your beloved fiancé."

"Enjolras, Musichetta sends her best regards and she invites you to stay over at our flat for the time being." Joly said, of course, with an urging for his friend to comply. "Your parents are getting your imprisonment fines settled. In time, you will no longer be a wanted man."

Enjolras didn't say anything so he thought the man had fallen asleep. Joly reluctantly exited the room afterwards. He feared for the man. The image of a confident and ambitious Enjolras was engrained into his memory and he didn't want let it go. Now, when he saw his friend, there was none of that spark. He lost it; the charm, the ambition, the charisma that made Enjolras a rightful leader, all was gone.

Should Joly have stayed at the barricades to fight alongside him? Once Enjolras gave his men the chance to withdraw as the cause slowly became fruitless, he took that chance to leave. He was with a woman and he did not dare to leave her. After spending a few safe moments with her, he went back to the barricades to find only bloodshed. Enjolras was the last to be wounded. His defeat ended the battle. Thankfully, Joly mustered up all his medical knowledge and treated Enjolras immediately before handing him off to the hospital. He had only treated one other victim before so he hoped that his care transferred over to his leader. That was not the case as the hospital declared his wounds fatal and he was soon to die. Yet, by a miracle, Enjolras persevered and drifted into a coma while his wounds healed. Six months later, he was awake and conscious as if he just woke up from a small nap.

"Enjolras..." Joly whispered to himself as his carriage departed. "You have God's luck on your side. Are you ever going to return to your former glory?"

After a few weeks, Enjolras felt he was ready to depart from the hospital. He gathered his red coat, buttoned up his white shirt, and brushed up his beige pants. His fingers raked through his curly blonde locks and pulled it back into a ponytail with a red ribbon. He'll have to cut it later today. He felt around his chin where noticeable stubble was present. He only just gave himself a quick shave, nothing much. Would people still recognize him as the chief instigator of the student rebellion?

Enjolras stepped out of the hospital and headed in the direction of Joly's home. Knowing him, he and Musichetta probably moved every last bit of his property into their home before the guards confiscated it.

And knowing his parents, they probably spent as much of their fortunes as possible to set their son free. Can't they take a hint? Don't they realize their only son wanted something greater rather than hiding behind vast amounts of wealth? Enjolras passed by Cafe Musain and stared at its former glory for a bit. But could he achieve that greater good again? Where would he go from here?

He passed by a young miss of her twenties, handing out small sheets of paper. "Monsieur, would you like to visit my opera house?" She politely asked while still giving him the paper.

Not wanting to come off as rude, he took the paper still and walked away.

The young woman passed her flyers to an even younger woman around seventeen, who wore a billowing maroon skirt and a torn brown top that revealed her corset. Her dark hair was covered with a thin piece of green cloth, cleverly hiding her face. But the opera girl did not mind as she passed out another flyer.

"Come to the soon-to-be-opened Opera Populaire!" She merrily said and continued her way. Unknowingly, she did not realize five francs disappeared from her pockets.

Eponine smirked and stuffed her new steals away in the layers of her thin clothing. That woman was a fool. She should know some parts of the city were horrible and she unknowingly just wandered into one part.

Eponine quickly ran off down the street and stuck herself in a dark corner like she was accustomed to as a street beggar. In no time, the hospital kicked her out after realizing she was nothing but a city urchin. No matter. She's had worse. She was still street smart so after taking some clothes for herself from laundries and picking a few pockets, she'd gotten quite adjusted to her new life. This was how Gavroche probably lived...without her...without a family...alone to survive in the streets. On the plus side, she didn't have to deal with her treacherous father and his gang of no good.

'Now, what to buy with five francs?' She thought to herself and fingered the hefty amount in her dress. It should get her enough bread to last a month. If she stole another five, she could probably get a decent meal.

Eponine silently trekked through the dark alleys of Paris, weaving in and out through crowded buildings to get to her "home"-or what she could call home. She found this small alcove in the alleyways, to which only she or a small child was thin enough to reach. She stole some more cloth and hay to make her bedding. Some large sticks, gathered from the woods, laid beside her bed to serve as poles for a tent to protect her during rain or when people tossed out dirty water. As much as she hated it, this was now her home. Here was where she slept. Here was where she spent her time, lamenting on her life.

Eponine pulled the cloth from the top of the pile of hay and she dug through the middle to reach the stone bricks. She silently fiddled a loose one and gently pulled it loose. Underneath were a few sous and one franc, along with the bugs and dirt, and she quickly added her five francs into the small safe. She felt like a kid again where she'd play treasure hunt and find safe places to hide her treasures.

But here, it was for her survival. She had to do everything to survive, including stealing from anybody and whoring herself when she got desperate. Luckily, that happened only once and she was a good enough drinker to hold her own while her bed mate passed out after a few jugs. It was a living.

Eponine lied down on her makeshift bed and closed her eyes. "Even his daughter does her share." She lulled to herself. Indeed. She knew her father's every tricks and inherited his very cunning nature.

It was merely how her world worked. Unfair and unjust as it was, it was her reality.

Here was how his world worked.

Classes at the university continued as always. Enjolras was stuck in his class of political science while his dear friend, Joly, spent his time learning about bodies and diseases and remedies. Marius, though confirmed alive, had gotten himself married and he was currently on a honeymoon. Bastard. Then, when classes were over, they were greeted by fellow students, interested in the events of the barricades, and women. Lots of women. Joly tried to excuse himself while Enjolras kept his chaste eyes away. If all their friends were here, they would have eaten up all the attention.

Once the commotion was settled, Enjolras and Joly headed over to their flat where Musichetta greeted them with open arms. She'd chastise Joly a little on what he wore today and what he ate this morning while simultaneously offering Enjolras delectable treats, which, of course, the handsome young man refused. Then, the man would retire to his study to do whatever he pleased.

"Monsieur Joly, does he wish not to be bothered again?" Musichetta asked as she prepared supper.

"Yes", Joly sighed, "And I doubt he is studying or working on our schools work."

"And why is that? Doesn't he work just as hard as you boys back in the day?" Musichetta questioned as she sat down beside her fiancé. "Why, I used to remember Marius studying hard in Cafe Musain during your revolution meetings."

"My dear, the thing is, Enjolras is brilliant. He could finish school work in an hour and have time to spare to read books and prepare for his revolution. Besides, it's not like he believed everything he studied to take it all in."

"Ah! Yes! I remember him denouncing everything in the books about the monarchy."

"That's what happens when you grow up on books of Robespierre. He's quite the republican, in fact, the epitome of a republican."

"Well, I hope the failed revolution does not hurt Monsieur Enjolras spirit. I miss the man who shouted such inspiring speeches." Musichetta grinned and giggled, much to Joly's distaste. "Of course, I would always miss you if you ever went away."

Joly smirked and gave a light peck on her cheek. "You better, you little vixen."

"Oh! Monsieur!"

Enjolras rolled his eyes and tried to ignore Joly and his..._activities_. He focused on reading his books of the past revolution, dissecting each detail, and taking in what exactly went wrong at his revolution. Was it poor planning? Did the people not reinforce them? What went wrong and caused the deaths of his friends? His worried hand swept through his now shortened curly locks and his other hand anxiously twirled the pen.

"Let the people rise to take our place until the Earth is free..." He mumbled to himself. Now, dreadful words have taken place of a once spurring speech of sacrifice.

What went wrong?

Unbeknownst to anyone in that flat, a street urchin skillfully snuck into the kitchen and made off with bread and butter and a few utensils while she was at it. Eponine munched on the bread while carrying her utensils to a nearby shop. She had no use for them. She lived in a world where forks and spoons were unnecessary. But metal was a precious element for any blacksmith. Eponine soon walked out with twenty francs in her pocket, ready to be stowed away in her secret hiding place. Maybe she could afford an actual place to live! Eponine scoffed at the idea, knowing that some nights, she went hungry so there was little chance in that happening. Everything depended on luck in her life.

Eponine made her way past the bourgeois persons of empty heads and past leering men who lurked in dark corners. The sooner she got home, the better. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in her thin sheets and sleep the day away. But once she rounded a corner, she heard loud chatters coming from a nearby home.

"Jacques!" One student cried out. "What do you know from him?"

"I haven't a clue." A dark haired man wearing a blue jacket with blue pantaloons replied. "The chief of the last barricade refuses to have a word."

"Well let's have a word with him at the Cafe Musain!"

Cafe Musain? Eponine scurried closer to have a listen. Isn't that where Marius and his friends planned their rebellion?

"I'll say! I shall have a word with him soon! Together, we shall stir a new revolution for the people!" Jacque declared and his friends collectively approved in a series of shouts and cheers like: "Vive la France! Liberte! Egalite! Fraternite!"

Eponine scoffed. If the Les Amis de ABC were considered the boys of the barricade, then these men were little babes. Do they not know of the sacrifices needed to be made in their quest for equality?

"You're wasting your time!" She remarked, drawing the attention of every men in that room.

"You! How did you get in here?"

Eponine glared at him, enough to make him back off. "How I am here is none of your business. What you should worry about is why I tell you your second revolution is a waste of your time."

"And how so?" Jacques grew interested. "What makes you qualified to speak with us?"

Eponine rolled her eyes and pulled down on the chemise covering her right shoulder. As she expected, everyone collectively gasped at the sight. A scar punctured into her skin, which were the remnants of a bullet hole. Eponine pulled her chemise back up and spoke, "I was there. In fact, do you know who was the first to fall?"

"A young maiden of sixteen who dressed up as a man to participate." Jacques immediately answered. "That was you! What was lady like yourself doing in the midst of battle? It's dangerous!"

How dumb is he? "What's a young student like you planning to copy your upperclassman's failures?" Eponine pointed out. "Ah yes! I know. You're new to this city...and you heard of revolutions and you came in support. Well...you're a little bit late."

"No one's ever late for a change!" Jacques declared.

Eponine noticed a hint of light in his eyes. Determination. Freedom. Sacrifice. She'd seen those eyes before, but on a different man...

"You're still going to fail." Eponine abruptly said as she began to walk away.

"No. I shall speak with Monsieur Enjolras. I have heard he is the most passionate man for the republic."

That Monsieur? "I doubt he'd be any use to you. He watched every single one of his men die out there." Eponine scoffed.

Other members of the party turned to her curiously. Jacques also took notice of her comfortableness with the topic. "Mademoiselle, you seem to be quite comfortable with this man. Maybe you should talk with him?"

Eponine frowned. She was comfortable with the Les Amis de ABC as a group, but individually...only Marius came up. She knew Enjolras as a man of principles and charisma, but that was it. She never spoke to him or even gave a glance. She merely knew him as the chief. "I don't know him. I just understand what he is going through. I'm going through the same thing. Survivors like us don't look at the world with clear lenses anymore." Eponine smirked and walked up close to Jacques, the student of her age. She went up close, so that they met eye to eye. "Listen here, young man, I'm only going to say this once. Drop this revolution or be killed."

She walked away.

Jacques stared at her; slack jawed even, before a few of his fellow students started snickering. One even brought his finger up to his eyes and snapped them to wake him up.

"Mon ami," one friend patted his shoulder. "I'd say she enjoys your company."

Jacques swatted his hand. "Don't be ridiculous!"

Their waitress entered to collect the bill. "Monsieurs. The bill please?"

"Why yes..." Jacques rummaged his pockets, and found them, "Empty? Why that gamin! She pocketed me!"

Eponine laughed in glee and swung her newest steals of the night. That boy, even holding the same age as her, maybe even older, was naive as he was dumb. Urchins like her would steal him blind after a day. Two days if he's lucky. She fondled around with the small pouch, hearing a bunch of coins clink against each other and bills rustling up. Let's hope that boy was a rich one. She could probably afford a new outfit with this!

As Eponine rounded her usual corner to her abode, a sharp yank suddenly stole her pouch away from her! "Hey!" Eponine grabbed for it. But a fist pounded into her stomach and tossed her aside like a rag doll. Eponine felt her lunch rise to her stomach and she coughed harshly into the ground.

"Eponine. Eponine. Still alive I see?"

That voice! Eponine glared at that one person she knew for a long time. "Father." She spat back.

His underlings gathered around their leader. Montparnasse was swinging the pouch, her treasure.

Eponine struggled to get up, wiped the spit and dirt from her face, and reached out her hand. "Give it to me. It's mine."

"Ah Eponine..." Her sick father said and roughly slapped her clear across the face. "You ungrateful child! You've been robbing and you ain't sharing your steals. I did not teach you to be like this."

Eponine yelled, "I don't work for you anymore!"

"You are still my daughter! I deserve everything you have!" Thernardier snarled and pushed her into his henchmen. "Hold your tongue! Or shall I get Montparnasse to do it for you?"

His wicked partner grinned and held up his sharp knives, letting each blade run cleanly across his fingertips.

Eponine shuddered at the thought and glared daggers back at her bastard father. "As long as I'm alive, I'm on my own!" She spat at his face, hoping whatever germs she gathered in the streets infected him.

Thernardier growled, "Brujon! Babet! Montparnasse! Teach her a lesson for me." He barked and pointed at his daughter. "You'll regret this! Eponine! You will come crawling back to me soon enough! You can't survive out here alone!"

"I'll take my chances. Farewell father. I won't miss you!"

Eponine grimaced at her last words as one of his henchmen punched her in the stomach. Another kicked her to the side. Another pushed her into a wall. She lied on the floor like a miserable dog as each man kicked her. Her stomach grew numb. Her legs were a mixture of black, blue, and purple. She felt strands of her clothing rip from her skirt and her shirt.

"Damn it all." Eponine cursed with every kick and hit. Long ago, she learned never to cry as it showed her weakness. Weakness was fear. Only the fearful die in these streets. That was her fear: Death.

"Heh. It looks like the rat passed out." Babet lifted Eponine by her hair.

She grimaced, but kept her guise of death apparent.

"Leave her. He doesn't want her dead." Montparnasse ordered and departed.

They all followed and left her alone there. Dirty. Wet. Injured. Eponine laid there at the brink of death. She felt her breakfast rise up to her throat, and in one belch, threw up all its contents. Disgusting. She struggled to get up on her knees and wiped off the filth from her mouth. Miserable, she staggered back to her feet, surprised she could actually stand! Face soon hit the floor.

This day could not get any worse!

Rain dripped onto her nose and then accumulated into a heavy shower. Eponine sighed and just rolled herself to a side of a building. She laid there, stared up at the sky, and just wondered: What if she was still rich? What if she did not become a beggar? What if her father still loved her? Would anything be different?

"Don't kid yourself 'Ponine." She mumbled her former nickname, one that gave her hope and a reason to live. That nickname was all she had left of her one true love.

Eponine sighed and let that faint memory drift in her mind. But even so, she still held dearly onto that glimmer of hope. Even if the rain soaked and washed it away, she still held on, hoping someday to survive and not encounter death. "And rain will make the flowers grow..." She barely whispered and her world went black.

* * *

_In the first chapter, you meet Jacques, a very recent republican who spurred on by the efforts of Enjolras' June Rebellion. He will be the one who peaks the interest of Enjolras, creating a nice vicarious duo between the two men. R/R!_


	3. ACT I: Scene ii

**ACT I: Scene ii**

Once the morning sun rose up, Enjolras rose along with it. This man, made of marble with the face of Apollo, would make any lady fleet at his feet. He would usually get up at this hour and read a book for the remaining time or take a short walk outside just as shops were opening up. He placed on a simple white shirt with an orange vest. On top, he wore a black jacket and a simple black cap to hide his looks. Even though he was considered to be free, none of the police would want a revolutionary scum like him wandering the streets. Enjolras silently crept down the stairs and out the door.

He walked down a cobblestone street that lead out to empty Parisian streets. He took note to avoid certain alleyways of Paris as they were filled with beggars and pickpockets. Usually, he'd venture through these parts to understand their life through their eyes. It gave him his drive for his revolution. But now, he had to avoid them for there were still rumors of a reward for the first to turn him in. Strange. He once fought to win these people their freedom as citizens and now, he avoided them like a plague.

Enjolras continued his walk down a small street of stores that now began to open. But suddenly, he felt a slight shove in his back and an open palm on his right hip.

The small, demure figure suddenly jumped back from him. "I'm sorry, Monsieur!" She squeaked, quivering under her brown cloak. She tried to run past him, but Enjolras was quick to grab her shoulder.

"A little boy used to pull that trick on me." He said and pulled the figure back to him.

Her hood fell off, revealing her matted black locks of hair and her grimy face. Her eyes were tired, lacking of sleep, and her cheeks have sunk in. She was also incredibly thin. She barely filled in her olive dress. Even so, this unkempt appearance of hers had a certain allure for some of the boys.

Enjolras knew this girl. "You're the puppy. Marius' puppy."

"Monsieur, you are mistaken." Eponine hastily responded and tried to run.

"No. I know who you are." He gripped onto her tighter, making poor Eponine yelp in pain. Enjolras' face suddenly softened and loosened his grip. "Mademoiselle. My most sincere apologies. Are you badly injured?"

"Monsieur, please let me go!" Eponine begged and squirmed in his grasp. "I'll give it back. Please! Just let me be!"

Concerned for her safety, Enjolras quickly released his hold...only for her to run off.

She was every bit as cunning as Gavroche. If so, then the usual trick should work. Enjolras took off after the fleeing girl, passed her by a few feet, rounded the corner, cut through an alleyway, and appeared just as she ran right into him.

Eponine gasped in fear as she pummeled right into his hardened chest. Great! She can't get away! Soon, pain rose up from her chest and other places that crashed into his body. She yelled in sheer pain, feeling the beatings her father's cronies gave her suddenly rise up again. Her brown cloak fell right off in the impact to reveal her arms. Blue and black spots scattered her arms and her darkest bruise on her stomach even showed through her thin chemise. Eponine doubled over, holding onto her poor stomach because that rammed the hardest into this man.

"Mademoiselle," Enjolras knelt beside her. "What has happened to you? You are more injured than your wounds at the barricade."

"Monsieur, I don't believe a few bruises amount to a gunshot wound." Eponine shot back. She tried to get up, only to succumb to her injuries and fall back down again.

"Mademoiselle, you must get medical attention. You cannot last another day with these injuries." Enjolras urged and gently pulled her back up to her feet.

Eponine shook her head and quickly separated from him. She didn't like this sudden closeness with him. Even though she dreamed of this situation with a nice man, she imagined that man to be Marius. And he was not Marius. She stammered, "Please Monsieur. Just let me be. Go on with your day and don't fret over me."

Enjolras stared back, flabbergasted and insulted. Did this gamin think of him as a snooty bourgeois boy? Or someone that took pity in the poor and offered charity? Did she rank him as lowly as to the most corrupt of society? "Mademoiselle, I can't allow that."

"And why not? Is it your money you want back?" Eponine dug through her skirt and found the wad of bills she snatched from him. She held it out for him to take. "Here. Take it."

"No." He pushed the money away. "Please. Come with me and I can get you help."

"I don't want charity!" Eponine glared and sauntered off.

"Wait! Mademoiselle!" Enjolras jumped in front other to block her path again. "It is not charity. You saved the life of my dear comrade. I'm returning the favor."

"Comrade..."

"Marius." Enjolras confirmed for her. "Marius Pontmercy."

"He's alive!" Eponine felt her dear heart flutter in that moment...only to have it crash down. If he was alive, then he might as well run off with Cosette already. But, if he was still alive, maybe he could finally see her true self after her valiant sacrifice. He'll come to his senses. He'll come back to her…like he should.

"Can I see him?"

"Yes. Please follow me."

Enjolras gently pulled her over in that daze and rushed her back to Joly's flat. It was a good thing that her crush on Marius was very obvious. It was an easy manipulation tactic. He'd notice she had a way of lighting up when Marius merely came into her view. Her character changed from a woman, wised up from living in the gutter, to a blushing young girl who would do anything to please her affections. It was amusing to watch at first, to watch her pour her heart out to Marius and do his every bidding, but that soon turned into pity as she slowly broke down into sorrow once Marius focused his affections on his true love. Enjolras had watched the girl herself cry in the rain the day before their rebellion.

Enjolras gently sat the girl on a chair and removed her brown cloak. "Joly! Joly! Get down here!" He called up.

"Enjolras?" Joly stepped down the stairs and marveled at the creature he brought in. "Why...I did say you need to get a maiden by your side, but I didn't imagine this... But she's quite pretty!"

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "No Joly! Don't you remember her?"

Joly came closer to her. "Ah. Marius' pup! I remember...how did you survive your wounds? You had a serious gunshot wound."

"I was on God's favor then..."

"Like this guy." Joly pointed at Enjolras. "This man was gunned down. Had about eight bullets in him and made it out just fine."

"Just look at her." Enjolras glared at him.

"Alright then, if I may", Joly noticed Eponine shy further away. "Please don't worry. I'm a doctor."

"In training only", Enjolras pointed out.

"Practicing soon."

Eponine slowly relented for Joly to remove part of her chemise, revealing the upper part of her chest. But she glared at Enjolras and turned away from his uncaring eyes.

Joly sighed, "Of course. Enjolras! Please give us some space." He didn't even wait for an answer as he took the man by the arm and ushered him out immediately.

Enjolras rolled his eyes at such an idea. He's seen enough whores' torsos from his friends' _activities_ that the sight became normal in Café Musain. In fact, the only thing that occurred more than naked whores would be Grantaire drinking. And on the contrary, he'd prefer to see Grantaire drinking his brain to death. But the sight there was something he couldn't ignore like another whore. Eponine's body was covered with black and blue bruises. Arms. Legs. Abdomen. She was covered. And to top it off, she was thin, malnourished, and shaking. And for that split second, when she planted her face into his chest, he felt a burning spot. She was also wet. She must have caught herself in the rain and gathered a fever from that.

Enjolras stood outside in the living room and occupied himself by analyzing the books and paintings and sketches. Joly was serious about marrying Musichetta. He already had a small portrait done. Enjolras focused on the books. Joly had nothing like Robespierre or any inspiring writers of the time. Boring medical books. That's what he had.

Enjolras heard a series of whimpers and gasps come from the room next door. Those better be of pain.

Enjolras stepped into the sitting room once the gasping had ceased.

Joly was just finished wrapping up his bandages. Everything was out. Bandages, scissors, alcohol; everything scattered onto a small table. Joly noticed Enjolras was looking for someone and he pointed to the doors that lead to a small hallway. "She's in there."

Enjolras quickly headed in that direction.

Joly smirked, "Changing."

"Mademoiselle, I wanted to ask-" Enjolras froze.

Eponine froze as well. She was _nearly_ naked. She only had her chemise on and it was an oversize. That was luck. The only bare skin showing was her neckline and her head and her arms and her legs and part of her butt. She unconsciously, but quickly, moved her maroon skirt closer to cover her legs. Her face turned scarlet red and she grabbed the first thing she could find.

"Ow! Hey! Stop it!"

Joly heard thuds and thumps and he quickly packed everything up. Maybe he should bring Musichetta out for a walk. A long walk.

"Monsieur!" Eponine chucked another pillow, nailing Enjolras in the head. "Get!" She nailed him with a blanket. "Out!" This time: a stool. She missed.

"Alright! Alright!" Enjolras quickly stepped out before she grabbed the other stool. "Women."

Eponine fastened up her skirt with a belt. It was a messy work for being so quick, but it will do. There was still a split and one of her legs stuck out. This skirt was torn to begin with and she wouldn't mind screwing with that jerk's virgin head. She adjusted her chemise a little to reveal her cleavage before opening the door to let Enjolras in.

"Are you finished?" He grunted. He tried his best not to look.

"I'm clothed. What do you want?"

"I want to apologize for intruding. But I want to talk to you." Enjolras said. He took a seat on a not-thrown stool and ushered for her to sit as well.

Eponine cautiously sat down on the edge of a bed. "Alright...I'm listening. What do you want from me?"

"Some answers..." He spotted a purple mark and a rise of skin on her shoulder. "You have a scar of your gunshot wound...you should have died. How did you come to survive?"

"I should ask the same for you. Eight bullets? That's more than enough to kill a man." She reached out and lifted part of his cravat, revealing a scar similar to hers. "That day...we should have died...God saved us both."

"What the reason is? I don't know." He chastely pushed away her touch. "My real questions concern your bruises. Where did you get these injuries?"

"Monsieur, spend a day on the streets and you'll find out." Eponine smirked.

"Don't you have a home? You're wet, covered in dirt, and you have a fever. I assume you slept in the streets."

"No. I sleep in a bed made of the finest plumed feathers of France in the palace of Versailles." Eponine rolled her eyes and haughtily crossed her arms. "I'm a gamin! Of course I sleep in the streets! What do they teach university boys like you these days?"

"Philosophies. Theories. Latin. French language. Politics. Recognition of speech such as sarcasm." Enjolras replied, all sarcasm intended. Strange how it seemed their speech has switched from a lady and gentleman to that of two dogs barking at each other.

"All not applicable to the life I have." Eponine remarked with a sigh. "You know, I too had an education. I know how to read a little. But life has not been well to me, Monsieur."

"I fear I am walking the same plank. After the rebellion, it seems republicans like me can't ever win back freedom for Patria. Everybody is out for our heads."

"Patria?"

"France."

Eponine snorted. "You never had the poor on your side. How would a rich bourgeois boy like you know of the plights of the poor? You fight for freedom for us and yet, you don't know us at all. You never knew us."

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. "But what did you think?"

"Pardon?"

"What did you think of our rebellion? Did you think it was arrogance that drove my comrades and me?"

Eponine sighed. "I thought of nothing. Marius was there. That's all it was. Where he is, I will be."

Enjolras murmured, "Just like a pup."

"I have a name." Eponine glared at him. "Eponine Jondrette. Neither a pup nor a mademoiselle. So please, stop referring to me as both."

If she was giving out orders, then... "You may call me Enjolras. Or as my comrades called me: The Chief."

"Some chief you are. You led your own brothers to their deaths." Eponine grumbled, yet satisfied she hit a sore spot.

He glared at her, tempted very well to smack her, but he quickly pulled himself back. He was taught well to never touch a woman like that, no matter how much they deserved it. He hissed, "They were the bravest souls I knew. I gave them their chance to leave, but they stayed to fight. They stayed at the barricade, knowing what they were facing, and fighting for the republic's freedom. Every single one of those men has found their place in Heaven. I will not let you dishonor their name."

"I don't dishonor the dead. So you don't dishonor the unfortunate." Eponine lowly growled with the same venom. She quickly got up, brushed her skirt, and stomped to the door. She needed to leave. She couldn't another second in the same room as this man. "Seeing how Marius isn't here, I should be taking my leave."

"Marius?" He forgot about him. "He's busy with his honeymoon. He'll be coming back shortly." Enjolras reassured her, but seeing the look on her face, it didn't seem like she was reassured.

Her figure slumped, dejected and downtrodden. With no words spoken, she yanked open the door and ran right out.

"Just like a pup." Enjolras chuckled a few moments after she left.

Was she going to look for Marius? Or was she going to wander out in the streets again? She had huge bruises, painful bruises, bruises that will last a few weeks, but she was a fighter. She knew how to survive in those streets. She survived a gunshot wound. She survived her whole life.

He glanced at the closed door where she once stood. Where was she to go now?

Eponine stumbled in her lonely streets. Alone. She knew he was going to marry her. She just didn't want to believe it.

She wanted to remain in that time where she was deathly in love with him. That time where he had no idea who Cosette was and he conferred only with her. She was his friend. She became close with him when he moved into her tenement. She fell in love with him because he treated her like any human being. It was her first love. And this was taken away. It was not fair! She knew him for much longer and helped him adjust to such a ruddy apartment. She was there to do his bidding. She died for him.

Yet, one glance at Cosette, and he was taken away like a wind of a stolen night.

A drip of rain fell onto her lash. Soon, a shower of light drops pattered onto her hair.

Eponine hid herself in the shadows, wanting to avoid her father at all costs. She pinned herself to a wall and silently crept back to the alcove that was her home. It was empty, untouched. A relief washed over her weary body as she sat down in her mattress of hay and cloth. She dug through the hay, wiggled a single brick, and checked if her treasures were still there. They were there. Though, her money was dwindling.

She sprawled out on her makeshift bed, not even bothering to put up a tent. She no longer cared if fever took over her. She no longer cared about her drenched hair or her nearly invisible clothes that were nearly falling off.

Her murky skies became a backdrop for the movie in her mind: She is the lead. Marius is her lover. He is the prince to whisk her away from her horrid life as a beggar. She starts anew. She transforms into a princess, a bourgeois girl. He gifts her with presents and she does the same. They live in a nice villa in the countryside, away from Paris, away from their past; just the two of them, living out their lives in content. She will give birth to their children. They will have her eyes and their father's hair. Their children will grow old and they grew old. Marius and she will die old, together, in each other's arms. She wanted her story to end just like that.

"On my own…pretending he's beside me…" She softly sang to herself, a tune that fully captured her sorrow and lulled her to sleep. "And I know it's only in my mind, that I'm talking to myself and not to him…"

But, here was the true story: Marius married Cosette. She remained alone.

"Without me…his world will go on turning…"

Eponine caught a few drops in her hand. Rain. Sometimes, she enjoyed this weather. It hid her tears.

* * *

_The rain imagery/motif is pulled from "A Little Fall of Rain" because that was when Eponine felt her worst, dying, and her redemption, "The rain that brings me here is heaven blessed". The double meaning in one piece of water imagery is so fascinating that its going to be a very occurring weather. Eponine still pines for Marius, thus she is slowly killing herself by thinking of him. R/R_


	4. ACT I: Scene iii

**ACT I: Scene iii**

The opera lady made her way past bustling merchants and eager street gamins with reaching hands. In her hands were papers among papers, all were written with musical notes and script. She pushed open the door of her usual printing and bookbinding shop.

There, an old man sat at his stool as he carefully threaded each single page into one packet. Around him was a printing press, a small table with his morning coffee and bread, and a set of books that needed to be bound for customers. The bookkeeper was way beyond his years. When he was young, his shop flourished as a regular printing press. He'd print pamphlets for the news or promotional items. Then he expanded to books, using a specific technique he developed himself to keep the books well organized. He worked closely with the University of Paris so that they got the books they needed for their students. He was paid generously for his services. Soon, he garnered enough money to buy antique books to sell in his shop. Many of the bourgeois class were interested in his collection. His books came from places such as Asia, England, Africa, and he even had some Egyptian scrolls. These books fetched a hefty price that interested buyers were willing to pay. His business soon took off and he became quite a member of the bourgeois class through hard work alone. But those were the good old days.

He was now an old man who worked nonstop in his shop. He has yet to find a successor to his business, but he wouldn't think anyone would match up to his art in books. Not even his son wanted to take the business. That boy ran off to become a doctor! If no one could take his shop, he'll just have to sell it and retire to a comfortable villa in the countryside. He didn't mind that either, but it would be nice to have a legacy.

"Monsieur Maurice", the opera lady sighed and placed her papers in the stack. "Your pacing gets slower each passing day."

"I'm a feeble old man. It's about time I retire from my art." The old man, Maurice, replied and stretched his tired arms. "But living is hard to execute in this era of time."

The opera lady fingered through his stack of unfinished books. She also found a similar stack of papers with her handwriting! "Monsieur! I asked you to do this last month! You're past behind your schedule!"

"When you are in your later age, I predict it will take you ten years to write your last play." Maurice replied back.

"Why not hire another set of hands?"

He hastily retorted, "Making books is a process and it takes a craftsman's skill to match up. You have to be delicate so the pages don't rip, but at the same time, strong and sturdy to hold those hundred pages together. The threading is intricate and the sewing is precise. It takes years to perfect a steady hand for this art. A normal seamstress cannot do!"

"Why don't you take on an apprentice?"

"I did and he went off to start his own business in a nearby town. He's not worthy to own my shop. His work always had mistakes." He scoffed and went back to his work. "You may pile your pages with last months and I'll get right to it tomorrow."

"You have my thanks, Monsieur Maurice." The opera lady replied, put her fresh pages of a play with her other pages, and exited the store. Honestly though, that man needed a helper. If he wasn't so elitist, he might actually get some work done and make his customers happy. She was a regular!

The opera lady swiftly walked back to her opera house. The stones were new and the steps were fresh. It was a moderate theater, built for the bourgeois for a special occasion and any other visitor looking for entertainment on the regular nights. She lived in a small house near the theater. In that house was a simple desk where she sat for many hours to write her stories and plays. Right now, she really wanted to get back there to plan out a draft to continue her current play. As she hurried home, she suddenly bumped into a younger girl.

"I'm terribly sorry." The opera lady apologized and gave her some money, seeing that she was a beggar.

Eponine fingered the ten francs in her hand and she pulled out another five francs stolen from the same lady. That person must be the most oblivious madam in France. She must have stolen over fifty francs from her.

Eponine glanced at her torn maroon skirt and olive green shirt, which the sleeves were torn and both her shoulders were bare to witness the rain and winds. She let her fingers snake through the numerous holes present in her brown cloak. It was thinning. She could sort of see through it even. Maybe it was time to invest in a new outfit entirely. The winter was soon to come. She should get a thicker skirt, a thicker cloak, and shoes to cover her feet.

Eponine promptly headed off to a nearby clothing shop and bought an old, thick murky brown skirt with a beige chemise and an old cap. She also found and quickly bought the largest and thickest blanket with dirt and fuzz stuck all over it. She didn't have enough left for shoes, so she decided to take whatever tattered cloth she had left and wrap that around her feet. She was down to a few sous. There was little money left to spend on the essentials. At the very least, she won't freeze when cold nights come.

Eponine placed on her cap and walked down the streets of Paris in hopes of no one suspecting her presence. Her reason for buying that cap was to better conceal herself. She made up quite a name as a master thief here in the streets. Even the bourgeois class was starting to take notice of her pickpocketing habits. That's why she often stole from the opera lady, who frequents the local theater house. That lady was dumb.

Eponine took a small bite out of her small slice of bread before stowing it away in her skirt's pocket. She needed to save food now that her money was dwindling.

Eponine swung around the corner, only to encounter the sight of her worst fear: that revolutionary bourgeois boy! She hissed in her misfortune and took a step back. She was lucky. He didn't notice her.

Enjolras arrived by carriage to his new home in a Parisian apartment. After a few weeks of staying at Joly's flat, he opted to move out into someplace much more...quiet, and lacking in..._activities_. In fact, he was glad to finally get out of Joly and Musichetta's lovely road to marriage.

Joly came along with him to help carry out the last of his things. "Well, let's look at your new home, shall we?" Joly spoke and he rushed into the apartment complex.

It was the one on the top floor with a snug balcony that held a sweet view of Paris. Inside were five rooms; a master bedroom, a sitting room, a dining hall with a kitchen, a washroom, and a smoke room. Enjolras never understood why his parents felt the need to buy him the most luxurious of all Parisian small homes as he only had use for three of those rooms. He would gladly offer the smoke room and the sitting room to those who need it, like half the people in Paris.

He nonchalantly walked past each of the vast rooms, which were well furnished with mahogany wood furniture and comfortable golden and white cushions and mattresses. In his bedroom was a large bed with a similarly large desk intended for his studies. There was also a dresser and a large mirror, though Enjolras found that the mirror would soon collect dust and the dresser would remain mostly empty. The bed was too large for one man unless his parents were thinking of him bringing in whores, which he sorely disagreed with. The dining hall held a small kitchen on the side with a brown mahogany table in the center with four seats. That table and those chairs were going to remain empty. The sitting room held a large two person couch with two single couches; all which pointed towards a low table in the center. Again, as aesthetically as that seemed, he would never use it. The smoke room looked the exact same save for a difference in couches and a rack of alcohol. That room would have been perfect for Grantaire. The washroom, at least, looked quite normal except the pipes were gilded in gold and the tub looked like it was made out of marble and the mirror inside was large enough for a full body reflection. Why would anyone need that?

Enjolras finished his short tour of this ridiculously expensive house and promptly sat down in the sitting room.

"Wow! I believe your apartment is larger than my flat!" Joly breathed in amazement. "Why, you are a lucky one to have such wealthy parents."

"I'd rather not." Enjolras remarked. Those wealthy parents came with consequences.

"Okay. I'll get out of your hair so you can adjust. I don't believe you really need much to unpack in a place like this." Joly stood up and began to step out.

"Take a wine with you before I throw it all away."

"Gladly." Joly smirked and did just that.

Enjolras finally relaxed a little once his friend left him alone in his new home. He reached into the pocket of his golden vest and pulled out a small letter. He already broke the wax, which held his father's crest, and the paper was soon crumpled mostly from Enjolras' frustrated hands. He didn't mind his mother's part in the letter. She mostly worried of her son's wellbeing and she urged him to use his new home wisely. She wrote that the rent would be paid by them until he found a job and they will provide the money for anything he needed. Even for whores. He, apparently in her words, needed a woman by his side. As always, she was the doting half of his parents. His father merely reprimanded him of their hassles with the law and advised him to concentrate on his studies. He strictly forbade him from participating in any more republican meetings.

Of course, Enjolras soundly ignored him just like the first time he said that.

Enjolras got up and headed towards the balcony. The view was beautiful. He didn't deny that. Notre Dame sat perfectly in his view and the Seine River flowed down the right portion of his balcony view. He could see the large hill with a cathedral in the distance. Below him was a small courtyard, perfect for reading books in the sunlight. Beyond that was an iron black gate, which kept out intruders, a quiet cobblestone path empty of people. Even though he despised his apartment, he found the location to be perfect.

A block away was the theater of Paris, run by a younger lady who handed him a pamphlet during the opening. Joly mentioned wanting to watch an opera there with Musichetta and offered Enjolras to come along. Obviously, Enjolras denied the offer. He'd rather not play a third wheel in two wheel wagon.

The grandfather clock in his sitting room rang a soft chime. It indicated that the hour was met. His classes were starting soon. Enjolras took a burlap bag, filled it with books, and quickly rushed out of his new home.

Eponine waited until the man was out of sight before she crept into his abode. That man must have been in a hurry to have left his gate open. She walked through the serene courtyard and her jealousy grew from his apparent wealth. The last time she saw a courtyard like this was when Cosette and her rich father live in Paris. Eponine attempted to enter the front door yet soon found that shut. Of course he would lock his front door. She glanced up at the balcony he once occupied. He lived on the highest floor so she couldn't enter without scaling a few walls.

Knowing her efforts were futile, Eponine retreated back into the streets. She wandered out to a nearby square and sat on a bench to start looking for her new targets. But still, in the back of her mind, she wondered what the bourgeois boy's new home was like. He was living in a pretty affluent neighborhood so he came from the upper, upper class. His room probably has gold and silver scattered about and polished wood for all types of furniture. He probably had a statue of Apollo sitting at his bedroom and sheets made of silk. She had nothing. She glanced at her old, worn out clothes. She was nothing compared to him. He was probably from a prestigious family fated to change Paris with their power. She was a street rat.

She suddenly jerked when a click of teeth rung behind her. Her worst enemy, Montparnasse, approached from behind her.

"What do you want?" Eponine hissed in her argot tongue.

"Why can't I see a good friend of mine?" He smirked and slid next to her whilst laying his arm around her pale shoulders.

"Get your dirty hands off me!" Eponine yelled and stood up to escape his grasp.

Montparnasse merely rolled his eyes and twirled a lock of her matted brown and black and grey hair. He rubbed his two fingers together, causing some form of soot and dirt to scrub off. "Dear 'Ponine, I believe you are much dirtier than me."

Eponine swatted his hand, hard. "What of it? It's none of your business so stay out of it. What do you and your bastards want?"

"Why I'm merely checking up on you; seeing how life's been treating you; that sort of thing." Montparnasse smiled with his wicked teeth and leaned in closer. "I've been hearing talk about you here in the streets. You've gathered quite a name in your few months living here. Why? Aren't you now the Jondrette girl who can steal people blind after one encounter?"

"I only steal from those who can afford losing a few coins of change." Eponine muttered and spat on the ground. She hated those names.

"Not when that change amounts to fifty francs in one go." Montparnasse quietly said. "Now, Thernadier has a proposition for you. You work with us and steal some goods, we divide up all the shares, and you can have what we get."

"Here's the thing, Montparnasse, that's not going to work when I steal much more than the lot of you combined." Eponine smirked, knowing very well that she managed better than most unfortunates in the streets. "Even his daughter does her share, but she plays to keep. That's how she's always been. So you go find yourself another bimbo to do your dirty work."

"'Ponine. 'Ponine. You look thinner and thinner every time I see you. Have you been going hungry? And is that a new dress? You've been spending away most of your money. You don't know how to use it...properly."

"It's better than cheap beer and whores."

"How about a roof over your head?" Montparnasse wickedly grinned now that he knew Eponine's attention was fully on him. "I have my ways. Poor 'Ponine has been living in the streets. You even caught yourself a cold from sleeping in the rain. Pretty soon, once winter sets in, you'll die here, frozen like the ice of an abandoned pond. Now, is that what you want?"

"Go away!" Eponine growled, summoning the most feral human being within her.

As expected, he backed off away from her. He was a bit afraid of tipping this young maiden past her point of no return. He's seen many whores break down and even murder their clients. Montparnasse adjusted his hat and pulled out a small note. "Here, I'll give you an option to have a roof over your head if you come here. Of course, this is not connected in any way to your father."

Eponine glanced at the note. It only had an address scrawled in messy black ink. She cautiously backed away from him. "Why do you give me this?"

"Darling, who'd waste such a pure and rich body like yours? You are still at the ripe age of seventeen, a young age of when a woman's true beauty shines through. I'd make hundreds off of you." Montparnasse smirked once more and held her up by the chin. But she growled back and slapped away his hand. "I believe I've overstayed my welcome." He left her with a small wave.

Eponine hastily rubbed the spot he touched her. She wanted nothing to with that wicked man and she will never become one of his whores. She'd rather die in the streets like the gutter rat she was!

Besides, what of her would fetch a worthy price as a whore? She was barely of age, and could still even be considered as a kid by today's society. Her body was thin. Her ribs show. Her skin was covered in nasty grime of dirt, feces, and gutter water. Her hair, which was dark brown a long time ago, became matted and tangled and just plain disgusting with the same crap she was covered with. And she still has the bruises from her beating! No amount of baths and make-ups and perfumes could cover her disgusting exterior.

Eponine placed on her cap and trudged back into her personal alley. She was tired today. She wanted to nap.

The following day, Enjolras prepared for his trip to the University of Paris as usual, ignoring the sleeping urchin hidden in some corner.

"Enjolras! Enjolras!"

Who is that racket? Enjolras turned around to see a younger boy in blue and brown hair. He was an innocent one. He was probably an underclassman. "Who may you be?"

"Huh? I thought Eponine told you about me?"

Eponine? The Jondrette girl? This boy met her before? "I do not believe Eponine mentioned you."

"Oh! Pardon my rudeness. My name is Jacques." He said and shook Enjolras' hand. "May I say how much of an honor it is to meet a man such as you? Your efforts for a revolution have not gone unanswered. Fear not! For us republicans will rise again in a revolution anew!"

Was he serious? Enjolras shook his head for he disagreed with this young man. "Jacques, for all that is good, please do not follow through with your plans of a new revolution. You are throwing your life away."

"My life? My life is for the republic! Isn't yours?" Jacques quickly followed after him in a similar manner of Eponine and her puppy-like trailing. "Please Enjolras! I beg you to consider our options. With Eponine as our direct contact to the people, we are bound to gain more supporters."

"Have you even spoken to her?" Enjolras grew annoyed of this boy.

"Why yes!"

"Then you know she only works for herself and she could care less about your plans. After nearly getting killed at my rebellion, I doubt she even wants to take part in anything political." Enjolras sharply pointed out and harshly jutted Jacques in the chest. "And you; give up your plans for another revolution because you'll only get yourself killed. Go learn your subject at your university and come out with something to contribute to society. You'll, at least, be useful in some sort."

Jacques fumed and he angrily stepped up to block his upperclassman. "What has become of you, Enjolras? Where has your fighting spirit gone? What has become of the man who spoke with revolutionary fervor? The man who could rally up crowds of the people with his words, what has happened to him? Your words have reached small towns such as mine in France, spreading out beyond Paris. You're just going to leave that aside? You're not even going to acknowledge your death-defying accomplishments."

"The only thing I've accomplished is defying Death when He came upon me."

"I know! Eight bullets! It must be a sign that you have much greater to accomplish!"

Enjolras shook his head in frustration. "No Jacques. You're looking at this in the wrong way entirely."

"What can be so wrong about continuing the republican legacy?"

Reaching way past his breaking point, Enjolras snatched the boy's collar. "Have you ever seen a friend stabbed with a blade? Have you ever witness multiple bullets piercing the body of your dearest friends? One by one, the people you rallied with are picked off like hens in a coop. One by one, the people you rallied for shun you away because you couldn't accomplish anything and brought death? Have you ever experienced that?" Enjolras angrily stated, finally putting the boy in his place. "If you knew how each of those affects a person, then you'll realize my position here. Good day."

Jacques stood there, shell shocked from his idol's harsh words. He knew what happened at the barricades. People died. But they died for what they believed in. They were martyrs; martyrs of respect and the revolution.

"Those friends of yours..."

Enjolras stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around.

"They were true martyrs. They died for the revolution. You were supposed to die with them, and yet, you live." Jacques stated with hopeful eyes. "Chief, you live to fight in their name. You're the only one who can do your men justice! Will you step out to your chance with me?"

Enjolras sighed. This boy was hopeless. Even so, Jacques reminded him of himself back when he participated in a small revolution as a young child like Gavroche. Since that revolution was a success, he carried out the same passion to his rebellion. However, the result was a disaster upon disasters and his passion disappeared with his strength. This boy was going to end in the same way. Broken. Enjolras placed his hand on Jacques's shoulder and pulled him into a whisper. "Look. I shall only say these words once. A revolution anew shall never work. Guards are posted everywhere to catch sight of pro-republican people like you and me. Your rebellion will be decimated before it even began. Thus, I advise you to drop this revolution nonsense right now before you're thrown in prison." He pulled away and began to leave once again.

"You never answered my question," Jacques suddenly insisted. "Will you take your place with me?"

Enjolras simply answered after a pause, "Yes...I would..."

Jacques smiled, "Then, I shall not give up hope!" And with that reassurance, he swiftly left Enjolras to his own just as when he approached the chief.

Enjolras watched the boy with careful eyes. He will wait to see what this boy can do. He'd never seen someone more passionate about the republic that they ignore basic judgment. Jacques was either going to rush to his death or come out with something extraordinary. If he could, Enjolras would like to take him up in the offer. He wanted to renew his passion and fight for the revolution, for his dear friends' sake. But...there was a problem...

"Enjolras!" A guard rushed to him once he saw the man.

He was being tracked. He was a prime suspect on the full watch of the police.

"Enjolras, rebel boy, you better be on your way home from the university. Or else, I'll have you arrested." The officer said with a glare.

"Greetings Officer Frasier," Enjolras grimly replied. "I believe the last time we formally met; you killed every single one of my friends and gunned down me and Grantaire."

"As you should have remained if not for your troublesome parents," Frasier grabbed Enjolras' collar and menacingly pulled him close. "If I catch you in or near any revolutionary activity, I will have you arrested and your parents can't get you out this time."

Enjolras smartly remarked back, "Has the law corrupted you so?"

"Has your freedom diminished your common sense?"

"No. I'll keep what you said in mind."

The officer immediately let him go and continued his watch. Although, as he was walking away, he still kept a close eye on Enjolras like an eagle searching for prey.

Enjolras ignored the man and continued his way in the opposite direction. He was ticked. Obviously. The last thing he needed to be reminded of was his failed rebellion. Why must he encounter a former ghost of his past and his personal 'Inspector Javert' on the same day?

He continued his journey back to his ever-so-luxurious home in hopes of just sleeping the day away.

* * *

_Notice the dual ending between Eponine and Enjolras? In this chapter, I find Enjolras' reaction to his new home to be the most interesting. He despises the gaudy decor of his house and yet relishes in the natural setting of his house. This shows that he is truly dedicated to his equality argument in his beliefs as he despises anything that is rich and pompous. It also shows in his relationship with his father and mother. R/R_


	5. ACT I: Scene iv

**ACT I: Scene iv**

As the cold autumn months set in, Eponine found herself using her huge cloak more often as a form of dress rather than a blanket. It did not provide soft comfort as she was sleeping on the cobblestone streets and a stone porch, if she was lucky. She found stealing to be slightly harder as her Jondrette name became infamous. Even the opera lady caught on because she had not seen that woman in weeks. She thought of reverting back to her old name or creating an alias, but her face was too well known. Money became hard to come by. Her steals now mostly composed of food from the market. Even shop owners became weary once she entered the door and kept an eye on her as she wandered around, using her skillful hands to pluck bread or fruit from the sales. Occasionally, she even broke into a few houses to steal worthy items like silver platters or utensils. Her lock picking skills soon rivaled her pickpocketing skills. Sometimes, if desperate measures called for it, she would rummage in garbage to find her next meal or a tool of use.

Whilst living out her life in the slums, she thought of Montparnasse's offer. If she was to accept, she was going to whore out her body under his name so he could keep what they pay for her, but he will provide for her including decent clothing and a roof over her head. At this point, her mind urged her to accept, yet her dignity pushed her away.

Eponine threw her cap on and travelled through the small cobblestone paths of Paris. She must find some unlucky fool to steal from or else, she will starve again another day!

She wandered into a more affluent neighborhood that bordered the University of Paris. A sudden yell for her name brought her attention.

"Eponine Jondrette!"

"Here we go again..." Eponine muttered and replied, "Hello Monsieur Jacques, how may I be of service to you?"

"No need to be so formal, Eponine! We have met once before." Jacques cheerfully said, "By the way, I have met with Enjolras a few days ago and it seems that you did not mention me."

"I'm afraid it must have slipped my mind."

Jacques did not seem fazed, "No matter! I bring good news to you! Enjolras has agreed to my plans and we shall reignite the republic once more!"

Eponine frowned. It doesn't seem natural for Enjolras to agree so quickly to another republican rally. Even for a charming and passionate leader like him, he was not one to bounce back so soon. Eponine shook her head and replied, "I do not believe he truly means it."

He was undeterred. "It does not matter whether he agrees or not. He has the same revolutionary spirit within him. And our cause needs a true leader."

"Our cause?"

"Why yes! Are you not part of this revolution? You were once at the barricades!"

Eponine narrowed her eyes and hissed at him with malice. "I do not care of your republican values. It has no use for me or anyone who lives in poverty! You talk of justice for all citizens, yet you don't spare a sou for us to join your cause. You only speak such words and do not act on it!" Eponine angrily jabbed at the poor boy in his chest as Marius' memory ignited once again in her mind. "As for the barricades, I was therefor other reasons. I planned to die there as the man I loved resolved to do. I was there for him, not for your cause!"

Jacques gaped when she walked away from him. Enjolras was right. Eponine did not care. But still, she was crucial because she was their only selling point to get to the public and the poor. And she has close ties with those connected to the rebellion. Even if she did not believe, he must make her and bring up this republican force...or die trying.

Jacques ran after her and blocked her path. "You follow this man. Alright, if your man joins our cause then you must accompany him!"

Eponine scoffed, "You are such a little boy."

"I am eighteen years of age. How old are you?"

He was older than her...interesting. "I am seventeen years old, yet I can tell who the wiser one is." Eponine smirked in glee.

"I admit; you are young and wise and hardened by the cruelties of life." Jacques sheepishly said, but grew much more passionate in his words. "But I have a passion for change and that makes me the stronger one. I shall see you at our rallies soon." He was the one to leave her.

Eponine smirked, interested in this boy. He was young, even though he was technically older than her, but he has the spirit of a young and pure child. She felt old. She left him, knowing his efforts were futile, and she went on to steal from new travelers and Parisian people.

Jacques hoped he inspired her, even just a little. Only time will tell. Besides, she was close with Enjolras...at least he thought she was...and as ambiguous as he may be, he could knock some passion in her spirit.

Jacques went to the nearest post to report his details. He pulled out a letter with his families waxed seal, so that the postman knew who to give priority to, and he wrote down an address in neat handwriting. His family friend was still on his honeymoon, so he'll probably send the letter there. Marius was not one to rush back so soon with his dear wife, Cosette, when they have so much time in the world together now. Even for a married man, Marius still held strong ties with the republican movement. Jacques admired that aspect of the man. But his romantic side needed some work. Satisfied of the contents of his letter, Jacques sent it forth and left the post with time to spare for his next class.

Once the boy of eighteen years headed to his university, he saw a handsome man with golden locks surrounded by a group of women. Enjolras, in fact, seemed very uncomfortable of the company of the opposite sex. Jacques knew of his senior's reputation with the ladies. He, in their eyes, was charming, dashing, handsome, passionate in his cause, handsome, well-built, well-dressed, a gentleman, groomed, and last but not least, handsome. Women of marrying age flocked around the man like pigeons looking for their next meal. And Apollo, himself, remained very stagnant about this. It was funny.

Jacques smirked, "Bastard can still charm the ladies without even trying."

In fact, he was happy his senior could have some time to live a little. Enjolras finally got past his stage of grieving and coping that he was starting to open up to revolutionary plans. But he seemed to be less risky and more cautious in his actions.

"Jacques!" In fact, his idol seemed relieved he showed up as he messily dispersed himself from the girls. Enjolras ran up to the freshman boy. "I hear you are arranging a meeting soon."

"Why yes! Monsieur Enjolras! You should come join us!" Jacques lit up like a hundred candlelights. "We will very much appreciate your expertise."

"I wouldn't, for doubts that your movement is going to work and for another thing..." Enjolras pulled the boy close. "I'm still a wanted man. I will be followed by guards."

"Oh...I understand." Jacques nodded. "Alright, when we finally accomplish something, join us with the public."

"I will keep that in mind. But I advise you to be weary of your actions."

Enjolras began to leave, but Jacques held him back. "By the way, Enjolras, do you perhaps know of a man named Marius Pontmercy back in your Les Amis de ABC."

"Yes. What of him and his lonely soul?"

"Lonely soul? He is a married man, is he not?"

"He is. To Cosette."

In fact, she was a huge distraction to Marius. He was so in love with her, which Enjolras could never fathom why because he literally met her in a day, that every other word that came out of his mouth was her name. If the boys ever kept a tally, Marius probably said "Cosette" more times than Enjolras and his "Revolution! Patria! Vive la France!" In conclusion, she was a distraction who turned him into a hopeless lover-boy. At some point in time, he wondered if his men figured all women were distractions.

"Anyways, Marius is a close family friend of mine and he wants to know of the group status." Jacques said in a low voice.

"Ah, say the chief and medic are present." Enjolras replied, yet Eponine popped up in his mind. "Also, his messenger pigeon is here."

"I will relay this message back in my next letter." Jacques tipped his hat.

"Do you know what that dandy boy is up to?"

"Marius? Interesting name for a comrade, I see. He's enjoying Versailles right now. He will soon return to Paris in a week's time, as noted in his last letter. He is doing quite well with Cosette."

"Have you met with him formally?"

"Why yes, he visited my estate before traveling forth to Versailles. I saw his wife as well. Dainty, small, golden blonde hair with pure blue and grey eyes, polite, and majestic; she is a rare ingenue from such a harsh city as Paris. I never seen such a man as Ppntmercy so in love with her."

"Ah I see... Very well...you may leave."

Jacques nodded and left him.

Enjolras continued his way towards his university, where his first lesson would be held. He was not interested of school at this point. He wanted to speak with Joly. He met up with the doctor for a stroll in the park after classes ended.

"The boy knows Marius and he is planning yet another republican movement?"

Enjolras nodded. "I believe so."

"Why? Do you believe it will work?"

"I don't know, but I'm afraid not." Enjolras grimly replied. "They do not know the measures of the consequences in their actions. One meeting is already enough for prompt trials and executions. It's a miracle that they've shut themselves away in another's living quarters rather than a public area."

"I agree. Lately, the government has been cracking down on any republicans planning a revolt. It will be much harder for any rally to be conjured up." Joly agreed and glanced at his friend. "Not to mention that you have a tail." He gestured towards a nearby army officer, one that Enjolras recognized too easily.

"Joly. Leave me for now." He ordered.

"Are you certain, Chief?"

"I am. Go to Musichetta and remain with her."

"As you wish, Chief." Joly stood up from the bench and walked away.

Enjolras sighed in relief once his friend was out of the picture. That man has a lover and he was soon to be married. No woman should ever deal with a man sitting near death row like him. Enjolras waited for a few more moments before gesturing to his follower.

Officer Frasier, an Army General, stood out and marched forth. For a tall, elder man with a peculiar mustache, Enjolras still remembered him as a childhood friend who was only older than him by a few years. Enjolras was rich and he was a peasant. Yet, they managed to bond by playing in the streets as both parents were busy. They used to kick an empty can and chase after it. They used to chase after cows and chickens that frequent the area. They even kept contact once Enjolras began schooling and Frasier enrolled into the militia.

"Come out of there! I wish to speak with my dear friend who has tailed me ever since at the university."

On cue, Officer Frasier stiffly approached him even with his gun in hand.

Enjolras snapped, "Put away the gun Frasier! We talk as friends, not as opposite sides of the law."

"It's hard to be friends once more when my job is to prevent you from engaging in any more republican affairs. That boy is a very active advocate for the republic." Frasier grunted as he lowered his gun.

"That boy is harmless. He won't achieve anything."

"Not unless he has your support..."

"And what shall my support give? My rebellion failed for that reason: lack of support." Enjolras muttered with a narrow of his ocean blue eyes. "You should know. You saw the public close their shades as we were shot down by your men."

"I was merely following orders! And you have no premonition on how painful it was for me to shoot!" Frasier spat back. "You were going to be great, Enjolras! You have a wealthy family, a prestigious background, and well-deserved education that would have achieved you a spot in the government. And yet, you throw all of it away just so you can play republican. It's despicable."

"But you want the same thing as me. Equality. That's why you joined the National Guard to prove that even a peasant could achieve greater. Yet, all your efforts only made you turn your back on your own people." Enjolras harshly replied.

"That's why you need to take this chance! Finish your schooling and start working to help these people the proper way." Frasier insisted. "My job is to enforce the rules. And it's hard for me to enforce rules that I don't like so you must create them."

"It will take too much time! General Lamarque fell ill before his efforts took place."

"Change does not happen overnight! It takes time!" Frasier sighed. "Enjolras, you are still as impatient as a child."

"And you are still annoying when it comes to questioning me." Enjolras grumbled. "Frasier, tell me, how long are you going to continue trailing me?"

"Until this anti-republican campaign dies down." Frasier answered, "You are very fortunate that you are only being watched. Other republicans are being tried for federal crimes against the monarchy ever since the rebellion."

"That only stirs them even more. What a poor decision..."

"So you should only be making smart decisions. Stay out of those affairs and finish your schooling properly. It's easier to change the country from the inside rather than causing a national disruption."

"Dear friend, that's how the past French revolution was so successful."

"However, if you try another revolution, I won't hesitate to shoot you down." Frasier remorsefully said and quickly left him.

"Damn him..." The chief whispered under his breath. How have two friends grown apart so quickly? He hated that it was him that was the tail. Frasier knew everything about him. It would be quite hard to lose him.

Joly popped up suddenly from his left.

"Did I not ask for you to leave?" Enjolras grew irritated.

Joly laughed, "I know. I know. But it is quite hard not to listen. So you and that man were once friends?"

"Once, we've grown apart since." Enjolras stood up and walked down the street past Joly.

"I remember him clearly. He shot at us." Joly mused, "So, what are you planning to do with him?"

"I only wish to evade him as long as possible. He will only follow me until I've finished school."

"Ah! So quietly finish school and start your movement once more as he is out of your hair."

"I can't do that unless Jacques screws everything up!" Enjolras grumbled in exasperation.

Suddenly, from a shop on the side, they heard a woman's voice yell, "Maurice! These papers I bought are uneven!"

"What's going on in there?" Joly ran up the marble steps and entered in. "Mademoiselle, is something the matter?"

"Huh? Uh, no! Nothing's wrong!" The opera lady sheepishly replied.

"Look at that! Your yelling was quite too loud." Maurice snickered.

"Oh shut it!" She grumbled back at him followed with a few dagger eyes.

"Oh right then, please keep it down though. It's quite unladylike to be yelling so loudly." Joly said with a wink towards the woman.

She angrily fumed with her auburn hair flying out everywhere. "Preposterous boy! What is he to think what a lady can or cannot do?" She ran up towards a window and peeked out the window.

"Spying, are we?"

"Oh shut up! Maurice!" The opera lady shot back.

But once her eyes spotted Enjolras, her heart lifted off for a few beats. He was undeniably handsome! His curly golden locks that framed his pronounced face, his furrowed eyebrows that kept such a serious glance in his sapphire blue eyes, as well as a strong and tall body; he was the epitome of Apollo! Was he the man she often heard young girls chatter about? He was quite too old for them! He looked around twenty-three, at the least. Good thing she was only twenty so age is not a huge difference.

"Blushing, are we?"

"Maurice!" The opera lady shouted back. "Keep it down or he will hear!"

"I don't think it is me he is hearing." The old man snickered.

What a loud racket! Eponine wanted to throw a rock in that shop window. How is she supposed to steal if she can't concentrate? The poor gamin glanced down the street and saw two noticeable men walking down away from her. She tugged onto her brown cloak even tighter and pulled herself back into the alleyway from which she came from. It was the bourgeois boy! She already considered it bad luck to run into him twice, but three times! Absurd! She'd rather go hungry than to deal with his mournful state.

Eponine wrapped her cloak around her head and snuck into a nearby pastry shop. The baker left his well-baked bread in the kitchen's countertop to cool for ten minutes. By the time he took the bread out of the pan, salted it, put the loaves in neat rows to cool, and headed off to his shop to attend to customers, Eponine would have entered into his kitchen. She silently crept, like a mouse, and knelt at his back door. She took, from her dress, a pair of small wires, initially from a headdress, and a nail of a fence. She pried that nail into the lock and took the wires and jammed those into the same lock. Twist, turn, jab; the lock easily opened with a click. And it only took a minute. The street urchin girl opened the door a crack and snuck her hand in to steal the first loaf she could find. She must make haste before the baker came back!

Luck was not on her side.

"Oh no you don't!" The baker yanked open the door. "You're the little bitch whose been stealing my merchandise!"

Eponine jerked at his grasp, feeling his floury nails dig into her thin arms and his horrid spit trail her dirtied face. Suddenly, a slap of her cheek sent her flying out of the door and back into the streets.

"Please! Monsieur-"

Splash! A tub of ice cold water washed over her, turning most of her garments see through. Her bruise on her cheek became much more pronounced as well as her bruises on her legs and torso from previous beatings.

"Don't you dare come back now!" The angry baker stalked back in and slammed the door shut in her face.

Wretched man! His bread wasn't even that good! Eponine spat at his floor and gathered up her clothes. Her skirt ripped from the tumble into tue ground, leaving her left leg exposed. She ripped up much more of her skirt and wrapped that around her numbing feet. She took her brown cloak and wrapped that around her body and began traveling once more.

That was her fifth attempt to steal and her fifth failure in stealing. Even her father took notice of her lack of accomplishments and took back his deal. She hadn't eaten in days now. Her stomach grumbled like crazy and she was beginning to lose a little sanity. She wanted to try stealing from people's pockets, but that plan proved fruitless as the bruises on her legs and torso might show.

Snow began to fall. She silently walked down the cobblestone streets of Paris. Alone, as always, she made her path to home. In the homes beside her, families were getting ready for supper. Sons and daughters played at their doorstop. Lovers continued their merry walk as they went home to escape the cold and embrace each other's arms. Eponine loathed them the most.

She hugged herself and trudged into the darkest depths of Paris where her home resided. She could take the hay, bury herself in it, and wrap a cloak around her. That should keep her warm to survive tonight. But what about tomorrow night? Winter lasts for many months. What was she to do then?

She was going to die.

She saw a menacing figure before her. He wore a tall hat and a long coat as well as a cane.

"What do you want Montparnasse?" She hissed at him, easily passing by him.

"Hungry? Little 'Ponine?" He held out a small piece of bread.

Begrudgingly, she took it from him and scarfed the whole thing down in one go. She wiped away the crumbs, licked her fingers for oil and salt, and glared at him again. "Why did you do that?"

Montparnasse smirked and slithered towards her like a snake. "I like my products in good shape."

"I am not a toy!"

"No you are not. But you are going to be an expensive flower for one to...you know..." He mimicked a flower with his hands and let the petals droop apart.

"Listen here, Montparnasse, I will never sell my body." Eponine announced and punched his shoulder. "So you leave me alone and go on with your business!"

Monparnasse smirked and checked his pockets first before shouting, "Eponine! Did you steal my pouch from my coat jacket? I'll tell you it's useless because that sack only contains pebbles!"

Pebbles!? Eponine frantically shook out the contents of the sack she just nicked from him to find smooth black pebbles fall at her feet. This can't be! She was sure this was full of coins a second ago!

"You're getting rusty Eponine." Montparnasse taunted her as he swung his real sack of coins in front of her. "How far have you fallen? Didn't you use to be the Jondrette girl who could steal a passerby blind? And now, you can't even tell the difference between a sou and a rock."

"What are you inquiring Montparnasse?" She heaved in fuming anger.

"I'm saying that the streets are not for you. Here." He tossed her his real sack of sous. "Now, I can get you more of that and much more such as a roof over your head, decent clothes..." He took a whiff of her stinky hair. "Some perfume...or a few."

She shuddered and stepped away from him. Her matted hair was a mess. And she smelled like the equivalent of rotten meat and sewage. She knew. But she hated when men leered at her innocent and disgusted form like that.

"Now 'Ponine. All you have to do is freshen up, dress presentably, put on some make up, and lose this here..." He placed his hand near her stomach, causing poor Eponine to evade him more. But Montparnasse was not jilted. He merely continued saying, "And then afterwards, lay back and think of Paris or London or whatever capital you see fit. And don't worry, I promise I will not touch you at all once the deed is done and when you continue on for the next night. I will be in your presence only to collect and split the rewards."

"And what makes you think I will split my earnings with scum like you." Eponine spat at him.

"Frankly, you are scum rather than I." Montparnasse took francs now from his pockets.

Eponine wanted to shoot herself from not noticing those bills. Has she really fallen that far?

Montparnasse nonchalantly flipped through each set of francs. "These are for the dress. This is for your make up. This is for the perfume. All this will go into making you very pretty. All you have to do is pay me back with interest and you'll be free to do what you wish. Now, do we have a deal?"

Eponine stared at his scrawny fingers. Should she take his deal? Should she sleep around for a place to stay during the winter at his expense?

She will live another day. That's what she saw and figured.

"Fine." She took his hand and roughly yanked it down. "But I carry out my business on my own terms. I will be your whore to rent out, but I will never lose it."

Monparnasse paused. "Excuse me."

"I will work for you, but I will never lose my virginity. Am I clear?"

"'Ponine. 'Ponine." He shook his head. "As innocent as you may be, it doesn't work that way. Once you lose it, you can't get it back."

"A virgin is worth twice the price," she proposed, peaking his interest, "What if you could always sell me as a virgin? You would reap twice the amount while I remain clean and ready to use again."

"But you wouldn't be exactly doing your job."

"Who said I needed to sleep with them?" Eponine was a smart kid and just as crafty as her bastard father. She knew where a loophole existed and she will take full advantage of it!

Montparnasse thought for a minute before finally relenting. "Alright, I'll wager you this. If you can trick your first customer, then we'll continue your little charade as you see fit. But if you lose, I get three-fourths of your earnings instead of half."

"Deal," she declared and they shook on it.

However, days later, she began to regret it. She'd never been with another man before! She never even got close to a man! How was she going to trick him?

Montparnasse got her a new dress. It was an olive green chemise with an ivory skirt that slit up to her thigh. She belted up her rather large skirt so she didn't trip. She felt the backside of her top fell dangerously too low, but any attempts to pull it up resulted in a dangerously low neckline. Even so, he splashed her with cold water so her matter of dress didn't matter if the cloth was practically seen through. Shivering, he smeared whatever make up he saw fit and splashed on a mountain's worth of powder. And to finish the look, perfume of roses and daisies drowned her rotting smell. Now, as she gazed into a puddle, she saw an even more grotesque version of herself. And she didn't think that was possible.

But her mind was on other things like how to avoid actually sleeping with a man. Should she choke him till he fainted? Or should she intoxicate him to the point of forgetting everything? Or maybe a drug or flower could induce sleep of some sort? What was she to do?

"It's time 'Ponine. Let's see what you got." Montparnasse dragged her out in the docks.

Unknown and blank faces stared at her at the equivalence of wonder and malice. Prostitutes saw her as competition or another poor soul forced into their terrible lifestyle. Men were all the same. She was a new product in the market. She was an innocent soul to corrupt. She was a flower to rip apart. But a select few noticed her as the infamous Jondrette beggar and sneered at her shortcomings like the rat she was.

Eponine nervously fingered her bracelet, her necklace, and the feathers in her hair. Everyone's eyes were on her. Was it already too late to back out?

A burly man approached her and slightly raised her chin with his pudgy fingers of sausages. "She's new. How much is she?"

"Fifty francs." Montparnasse greedily answered.

"Fifty! It's a little much for a child."

"She's very new. A rarity of these days. Would you like to be her first?"

He thought for a moment, but finally relented and pulled Eponine to him. "I'll take her."

On cue, Eponine silently followed this burly and disgusting man. "Monsieur! Monsieur! Why not a drink?" She shoved a bottle of pure alcohol down his throat, watching the clear liquid drip down from his chin. Her lips curled into a grin just as wicked as Montparnasse as she dragged the intoxicated man deeper into the ship. "Monsieur crewman, sailor, captain, guardsman, whoever you are." Her voice gradually deepened with a hit of smooth velvet tracing her vocal cords. Her sultry lips traced the drunken brute's cheeks down to his chin. Eponine allowed her dress to slide down, cleanly exposing her dirty shoulders, not that the man cared for her lack of cleanliness. The small woman straddled the man with her nimble legs. He grabbed her thighs and hiked her skirt up to her waist with his dirty fingers leaving streaks on her thigh. She softly placed a kiss on his brow to calm him down. "Patience. Patience." She tensely rubbed her lips together before delivering the final blow.

Eponine lunged forward and topped the brute's lips with her own. She used her slippery tongue to pry open his lips and force her own in, trying to get him to consume her as much as possible. She forced her eyes shut when he reacted to her forceful kisses.

Why wasn't he reacting?

Eponine soon grew a little more fearful when he hiked her skirt up again.

Please...

Flop! The man gave a weird gurgling noise before he heaved Eponine out of his lap. He tried to stand, but that proved too much as he fell forward and smacked his face into the floor. The burly man weighed a little, but soon his figure settled into rest with a small heave of his chest.

Eponine quickly gathered her clothes and backed away from the man. She did it.

Clap. Clap. Montparnasse applauded from behind her. "Congratulations Ponine, you win our wager." The slender man walked up to the downed man and picked him up gently by the collar. "He's knocked out cold."

"Take whatever he has on him and we'll leave." Eponine coldly replied as she attempted to fix her messed up clothes.

"Hmm..." Montparnasse inspected the man's lips and found a powder. He spotted Eponine hastily wiping away the powder on her lips. "Smart little girl. You spent the money I gave you at a medicine shop. I see you bought yourself knockout powder made of a rare poppy."

Eponine wasted no conversation. She held out her hand and demanded, "My share. Now!"

"As we agreed," he replied and placed twenty five francs in her hand.

Eponine snatched the money and scurried away. She ran past the fucking bodies, past the leering men, past the sorrowful ladies, and past her regret and her horrible decisions. She hated this. Why did she do this? Poor Eponine collapsed in an abandoned alleyway with a slight ledge to protect her from the rain. She hugged her still shivering body and cowered at her own feet.

She had money now. But she felt so...dirty.

What was Marius going to think of her? A whore. She was officially a whore. She told herself she'd never fall this far and yet, she still did. She couldn't even bear to glance at Marius and his beloved Cosette. She didn't even want to encounter the bourgeois boy, Enjolras, and his friends. They would only see her as a lowly urchin or a pitiful girl that needed their saving. She was nothing now.

Eponine wanted to take the francs in her hand and throw it in the Seine. This was dirty money. Only mere dirt was in her hands, not something of value. And yet, she survived another day. And she will survive the coming winter. That was her only motivation.

But how much longer must she continue this...?

* * *

_Eponine falls even further into poverty and she decides to take extreme measures. The rain shows up once again to symbolize her descent and sorrow. Enjolras is still trying to grasp what he has left to contribute to the republican movement while Jacques remains adamant about his cause. Frasier wants to keep Enjolras in line whilst ignoring his own wishes, a symbol of the law present in the story._

_However, the narrator of this story is the "opera lady", who yet does not have a name. She stands out from these group of characters because she has no relevant action at this point besides annoying people with her opera advertising and crushing on Enjolras, (which you can't blame since it's been established that Enjolras is the hottest human being in France). But her constant appearance may show that she will be important. R/R_


	6. ACT I: Scene v

**ACT I: Scene v**

Throughout the winter, the young gamin became quite accustomed to her new job as a prostitute. Every night became a routine to her. She chose the docks or a brothel or a local inn, lure and seduce men, knock them out before they even got close to her, and steal every single sou on them. And if she ever ran into them again: feign ignorance. And every night, her virginity remained intact. Not one man has ever entered her yet. She already felt a man's prized possession and did her service there as well, but that was as far as she'd allow it. She never went all the way. It kept her prices high. But in the end, she was at the level of garbage. She felt like an actual whore even when she didn't do much. The whiskey became her best friend. After a night's work, she went to a bar just to drink and drown her worries. Her voice began to grow hoarse from the drinking, not that Montparnasse complained. In fact, he claimed the hoarse and rough voice increased her overall appeal. She even began to dress differently. Her disgusting dress, though torn and worn out, had a slit that rode up to her thigh and cleanly expose her chest and upper back.

She swore she probably paid back most of her debt to Montparnasse from all her services. Luckily, he kept his end of the deal and only entered the scene once Eponine deemed it viable. He merely collected the cash and split the earnings equally. And in return, she lived in a shed. It was not much, nothing posh, but she finally had a roof over her head to protect her from the snow and warmer clothes and a better makeshift bed to sleep in. Her bed was still on the floor, no doubt, but there were more blankets. That was good enough.

When Eponine was not prostituting, she merely lounged around in her shed and picked apart the hay of her bed. Sometimes, she snuck out to steal food and money. She still needed to keep those skills up. Other times, she'd sneak out, sit at a local square of St. Michel, and observe people. Because of her cloak, she could disguise herself pretty well. Sometimes, she would see little kids playing around or women shopping for clothes. Men went to and from their jobs. University students frequently lounged the area, but she hadn't spotted Enjolras or his doctor friend. Jacques, she spotted frequently walking home in the square. University boys occasionally caught her in her risqué costume and often tried to flirt with her, which she easily ignored.

Occasionally, Montparnasse visited her to deliver messages from her father. That Thernadier knew of her prostituting ways! And he was laughing at her now! She, apparently, deserved her horrible life for not accepting his request. Bullshit! Eponine wanted to find her sorry excuse for a father and spit in his face. But he'd probably beat her to death again. And also, there were news that Azelma was finally released from prison, which brought great joy to Eponine's heart. But the feeling soon sank once she realized her sister was still in the custody of her father and that her mother died in prison. Her mother still loved her, even when she faced the treacheries of poverty.

One day, past the winter season, Eponine decided to frequent the square for the purpose of hanging around there. Because of her success in her...activities...she was given a day off by Montparnasse. But she knew this was to conceal her identity better for that her cheating-the-job ways were getting pretty notorious. Yet she liked the day off. She liked having her body to herself for once. She no longer needed her cloak or the make-up that hid her face. She could finally just appear to people as Eponine, the urchin, rather than Eponine, the virgin.

That day, she squatted alone at a curb and watched people walk by on a puddle. Before she knew it, a guy dropped a sou in front of her and walked away. She peered up and saw Jacques. He didn't recognize her...did she really change all that much? Her face still had traces of last night's make-up and her hair was especially frizzed up. She smelled differently.

He paid little attention to her as he rejoined his friends.

"Jacques. Jacques." One friend clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "I thought you were picking up a woman, not giving the urchin money."

"I am only helping the poor. I do not wish to help myself," Jacques curtly replied.

"You're going to need some women, friend!" His other friend swung his arm about his shoulder. "We are planning on a nightly adventure! Care to join?"

"And drink myself away whilst screwing whores? I have much schoolwork to accomplish so I must decline."

"Jacques! It's only schoolwork or your republican meetings with you! Live a little!" His friend loudly slapped him in the back.

Jacques shot a glare at his friend, immediately shutting him up. "Excuse me, but I have not had any republican meetings lately. The army has been on our tails lately. They've prevented the last few meetings from happening!"

"Which is why you need to relieve that stress building up in your head and come with us tonight!"

Enjolras watched Jacques and his friends sauntering in his neighborhood streets. He scoffed at their youthful child play and busied himself with his schoolwork. He never accomplished much, just as the veteran expected.

Another letter arrived from his parents. As usual, his mother worried about his condition and praised him to get a good job as a council member of Paris. His father remained brief and strict: be a council member, make money, and get a wife. Enjolras did not care of the last order nor of the second order. He only agreed with the first order as he did not see himself in any other jobs besides the government. For instance, Joly was studying to be a doctor so he must become one once his schooling finishes. Marius wanted to become a lawyer, though his honeymoon may have derailed that path for a little while. Enjolras wanted France to change so it made sense for him to work as a councilman. Who knows? He may be the next General Lamarque.

A knock was heard on the door and his dear friend and National Guard officer pranced right into the room. Frasier held up a single set of letters and placed them upon Enjolras' desk. "Your parents have sent their words for me to give my support to your probable ascension as a councilman."

Enjolras smirked. "First you chase me around and now you give me your support?"

"Do not underestimate my standings, Enjolras, as I am the commander of the National Guard. Having my support will ensure you a place in the council."

"Frasier, you know I am a republican." Enjolras simply stated, "Suppose I overthrow the king with my power, what will you do then?"

"I merely follow orders. I have no say in that matter of the law." Frasier strictly replied. "If it were to happen, then so be it."

"Fair enough." Enjolras shrugged and tossed the letter of his father into the fireplace. He addressed back to his friend, "So Frasier, has the days been good to you?"

"Why yes, my soldiers have been shutting down those republicans and their meetings of felony."

"The king has become an anxious man." Enjolras murmured.

"Which is why you should not partake in any reckless behavior. The king may take it in another matter." Frasier advised.

Enjolras glared at him. "Then stay out of my way."

Frasier merely scoffed and turned his heel from his forlorn friend. But he mentioned, "Your parents have also asked if they know of any women in your life."

"Tell them I have one mistress."

"And she is?"

"Patria." He said in all seriousness.

Frasier snorted, "Typical Enjolras! You know, if you are in need of women, there is always the occasion of wandering in during a woman's time of tea. I bet your face alone can attract a whole lot of viable ladies. You did so well in attracting our fellow playmates, Madeleine and Anette, when we were once toddlers."

Enjolras remembered both little girls well. One possessed hair of dark chocolate brown while the other was a blonde of pure beauty. He treated them respectfully, whilst at the same time, more interested in his father and mother's talk of French politics. It was Frasier who attempted to make conversation with the two girls. "Whatever happened with them?"

Frasier shrugged, "The last I've heard, Anette's parents died and she works as a laundry's woman who earns her day's work. Madeleine was the more unfortunate. She became a prostitute. I haven't seen either of them."

"Frasier. Frasier." Enjolras clicked his tongue. "It's been seventeen years and you seem to remember them well. I remember you had quite a crush on Madeleine, commenting that her hair possessed the aroma of sweet lilies."

Frasier gasped, "Why that was a long time ago! I tell you, I never seen them in the past decade!"

Enjolras shrugged, "If you insist..."

"Enjolras, believe me, I'm like you. I control a squadron of men and I know that women relieve their stresses of the day, which you are in dire need of at this moment." Frasier pointed out and circled his friend much to Enjolras' disgust. "Now, back at your meetings with Les Amis de ABC, you had quite a few women hanging about."

"How do you know?" The revolutionary demanded.

"I have my resources."

Enjolras scowled. "Those women worked at the cafe. The rest were whores or participants of my cause."

"Ah, but there was one in particular that caught your eye." Frasier cheekily said. "An urchin girl who wanders into your meetings and you seemed to notice her very presence. And when she died, you wept a single tear."

Enjolras stood there, shocked and surprised of his once childhood friend and pure enemy's words. Before, by resources, Enjolras thought he meant previous participants at the barricade that have been subjected to trial. But, he knew of personal things. He had let every little detail slip in his coy attempt to top Enjolras' words. Back then, six months prior to this, Les Amis had an infiltrator before Inspector Javert!

Enjolras lunged at him, grabbed the soldier by his caller, and growled, "Who was this? Who was your spy?"

Frasier also darkened and he yanked Enjolras away, which was easy considering that he was the older, fitter, taller, and stronger man. "I said too much. I will take my leave."

"Damn you! Get back here Frasier!"

Enjolras attempted to nab him again yet the officer roughly pushed the man back. Enjolras toppled onto the ground, allowing his back to bruise from the impact. But he paid no heed as he bolted back up and out of his living quarters. He ran down his flight of steps and right out into the front courtyard.

Officer Frasier was nowhere to be seen.

Enjolras cursed under his breath and stomped back into his apartment complex. He'll get that man for sure!

Yet, unbeknownst to him, the small beggar girl from the square had slipped past his notice and was now a few steps ahead of him. She silently entered into his apartment and hid in one of the rooms while he walked back to his office bedroom. Eponine smirked and slid out her hiding place in the couch. She glanced around, amazed and disgusted of the regal setting of his quarters. She knew he was a fake. He advocated for the poor and yet, he lived in such an apartment fit for a king. At least, Marius lived in a modest home even though he had quite a rich grandfather. Eponine crept across the wooden floors and rugs of the finest silk. She nicked off some things that she was sure the bourgeois boy would miss such as a golden tea spoon or a few crystals off a chandelier or a wine glass or two. She, in fact, did not know what to steal from here. The possibilities were endless! There were so many rooms that she could possibly live here without Enjolras ever finding her. He lived in such a villa of a home. And there were so many rooms to rob! She knew her Thernardier senses were tingling when she attempted to get in the first time.

Eponine scurried from room to room, unknowingly unaware that the occupant noticed her presence. He was weary at first, hoping that beggars did not get into his room. He heard of the Patron Minette having quite a reputation of breaking in and robbing. And one of the Patron Minette member's intruded very rudely onto Marius' wedding, which Enjolras didn't mind as it served Marius right for getting so distracted by his wife when he should have been preparing for the cause.

Yet when Enjolras got a bit closer, he noticed that this thief was smaller than him and had the posture of a woman under a brown cloth. She wore a dirtied skirt of ivory that trailed down to the floor and she wore a distinct olive and gold top. Her hair was in shambles, which she tried to mask with her hat. She was a silent one, and a clever one to have snuck in without him knowing at first. Enjolras waited until she spaced off at his living room before rushing forth and pushing her gently onto one of the couches.

Eponine gasped at the shove as she fell back first onto a soft couch. She gazed up at her assailant, only to see a face of carved beauty with curled locks of golden hair hanging about him. Looking up, she could see he had quite a chiseled jaw line and taut muscles that pulled at his shirt. She smirked at this Apollo. He took her by surprise; that was a first for her. "Hello Monsieur", she hoarsely and breathlessly said with her chest heaving and in danger of spilling out of her dress, not that she cared.

"Mademoiselle?" Enjolras backed up away from her. She looked quite...different. He remembered her as dirty and injured. And now, she was dirty, injured, and...revealing. Her dirt-covered legs were showing from a slit in her dress and both of her shoulders were bare of cloth. He did not see this in Eponine to whore herself up to live. But then again, she was a wild thing he couldn't predict at all.

"As you see, I am hardly a Mademoiselle. Bourgeois boy." Eponine shot back with her ill tongue as she sat up straight and brushed down her skirt to cover herself up more.

Her voice was getting hoarse and drawled out, like Grantaire when he was killing himself with the wine. She was probably drinking to get by in her job.

"Eponine, have you continued to live on the streets?"

"No, I improved. I live in a shack now." Eponine said and rolled her eyes. "I am an urchin. It's actually very hard to climb the ladder of wealth when you're at the lowest level. Not that you would know..."

Enjolras scowled at her. She was irritating. "My parents bought this for me. I didn't ask for it."

"Like any other bourgeois boy out there. They don't ask for anything and yet, what they desire shows up in their laps in seconds." She angrily stood up and began to stalk away. "It seems I should go seeing I have trespassed on your property."

"Mademoiselle," Enjolras ran before her to block her path. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a wad of francs. "Take this."

Eponine scowled and slapped his hand. "I am not a charity case! I have survived the winters without your help so I don't need it now!"

He smirked at her childish pouting and he scooped up the money again. This time, he simply and firmly placed the bills in her hand while his other hand snaked about her hip to grab her stolen treasures. "But Mademoiselle, I'd rather have you take my bills rather than my utensils. I need these to eat." He held up a single gold teaspoon, a silver knife, spoons and forks, as well as, some cups. How she managed to sneak all that under her skirt evaded his thinking.

Eponine smirked as she stared into his deep blue eyes. "You stole those back quite well, Monsieur, you could be just as good as me."

"I don't commit myself to petty crimes; only Patria." Enjolras replied and quickly separated from her when she got too close for his comfort.

"Monsieur, that idealism of yours will change once you live one day in the streets."

"And yet, you haven't been stealing. What made you decide to prostitute?"

Eponine grew dark. "Desperation, Monsieur, prostitution was the next step after stealing."

"Have you ever tried working a normal job?"

"I've already exhausted all my other options before this. Did you think I wouldn't try that first?" She shirked back with her ill tongue.

"It is always still an option."

"Unfortunately, it's harder than you think Monsieur. Not that you would know as you haven't worked a day in your life." She wickedly mocked with a roll of her chocolate brown eyes.

Enjolras attempted a rebuttal, yet found himself lost. She was right. Because of his parents' interference, he never really earned his money. Primarily, he'd derive his working class ideas from Fueilly.

She noticed Enjolras casted his eyes downward, realizing full well that she won against him. "I'll take my leave now." Eponine curtly said and left his premises. Finally, she escaped his villa of terror, of judgements, of eyes that could suffocate her. This was one reason she despised the bourgeois class: the way they look at people under them. All of them came from the same background so what gave them the right to treat the lower class so horribly?

Eponine ran down steep flights of stairs and through the garden entrance. No matter how beautiful this place was, it could never mask the disgusting people living within.

She turned the corner and bolted out into one of the alleyways. She needed to get out of this neighborhood. It was too rich for her to take in. Yet, once she turned at a corner, she found a familiar guy wearing a suit and a hat.

"You stand as if you're waiting for someone." Eponine stated as she nicked off his top hat to reveal the man. "Montparnasse."

"You're on tonight." He crossly replied while retrieving his top hat very quickly.

"It is my day off! I believe you said so this morning!"

"Plans have changed," Montparnasse whispered, "These guys are willing to pay one thousand francs!"

"You have me going at five hundred francs already. How's double that going to make me go?"

Montparnasse reiterated, "One thousand francs, each."

Eponine paused as the Thernadier gears turned in her head. "How many?"

"Four."

"Together? Or separate?"

"Together."

"Ugh. I hate those twisted kinds of men the most." Eponine grumbled. "Montparnasse, give me ten francs. And I need you to get them as drunk as possible before I arrive."

"As you wish, 'Ponine." He simply replied and slithered away like the snake he was.

Eponine cringed at him. Something was off in his walk. Whatever, that was not of her business. What was her business was that she's going to take extra cash for herself. That's what he gets for making her work today.

Eponine ventured off into a nearby medicine shop and bought her usual poppy medicine. This time, she increased the dosage by the twice the amount. That should knock them out very quickly. She wondered how she was going to do this. Should she knock them out with a classic kiss? No, that would take too long. Or should she have them suck it off from her fingers? That would also take too long. Drug the drinks? Shove the medicine down their throats? Scatter it all over her clothes so they sniff it off? One little whiff was enough to incapacitate them.

She'll figure it out.

As she walked to the local prostitution ring, she spotted a bunch of university boys heading into a brothel. How typical! They need to replace the stress of an education through women. All scholars were like that. Eponine would have easily passed this small brothel when she noticed a certain boy eyeing her, trying to define her. He finally got a clear enough look and came running towards her.

"Eponine! Jondrette!"

"Here we go again...Eponine grumbled, "Jacques! What are you doing here?"

"My prepubescent friends dragged me here. I was on my way to leave. What are you doing here?" He spotted her low cut clothing and see through cloth. "You work here! Why Eponine! This is unsafe for you!"

"This place is more unsafe for you. Whores like me can steal you blind in one stand." Eponine lowly said and dragged Jacques out. "Now go home! You don't belong here!"

"Neither do you! You should go home right now!"

"Unlike you, I don't have one!" Eponine bitterly replied and yanked her hand out of his reach. "Leave me alone and go home! Take my heed while I'm nice."

"But Eponine-You-I mean-I'll get your friend, Enjolras! He'll convince you to stop this madness!"

"That bourgeois boy is not my friend, and neither are you!"

"No! No! No! He'll definitely convince you!" He already ran off, not paying any attention to her requests.

Eponine sighed and left the brothel. That naive boy never listened, like she was dealing with her own brother, Gavroche. Whatever he was doing, he won't find her at all.

Eponine walked up to the meeting place. It was at the docks, in one of the smaller ships that held boxes and boxes of cargo. They always pick such strange places to meet. She finally found Montparnasse calmly waiting beside a tall pillar that held the dock in place.

"Where are they?"

Montparnasse pointed behind her to reveal four men coming at her. Eponine was not scared at all. She held her place and tightened her grip on a small satchel hidden in the crevices of her fingers. She felt the powder spill all over her hands, a fine, crushed mineral coated her fingers. But soon, her bravery and resolve quickly diminished when she noticed something particular.

"Montparnasse...why are they walking so straight?" She asked.

He was already gone.

"Montparnasse? Montparnasse! You little coward!" The gamin angrily cursed in her argot French. "Get back here!"

She felt her arms yanked out from behind her. Three men, together, pushed her to her knees onto the ground. She couldn't use her hands. and she was too weak to wrestle them away. Finally, once she lifted her head, she spotted her guy slink out from the shadows.

She growled loudly, "Montparnasse...you set me up! Traitor!"

"Hush now 'Ponine. I am making a transaction." Montparnasse nonchalantly replied as he fingered a wad of bills.

"We have a deal!"

"And I was given a better deal. Besides these four gentlemen found out our ruse and gave me a good beating as well." He removed his hat to reveal a red scar on his scalp. "They were polite enough to give me an extra thousand francs to make sure you'd come."

"You little son of a bitch!"

"Watch your tongue 'Ponine. Even you knew it was only business between us. Now be a good girl and hold still for them. I'll be back in four hours." Montparnasse tipped his hat and promptly left the girl there.

Her heart was beating faster now. Her hands, bathed of the powder, were useless against their strong grips. And they knew her tricks already. She grew fearful as the four men roughly yanked her limp body into a ship. They were going to rape her. She was going to be raped. She was going to lose her virginity.

Marius. She wanted him. She needed him. She was not going to let him see her like this!

Once they dragged her to the edge of the boat, and once her skirt hiked to her knees, she swiftly jerked and managed to free a hand. Her leg swung out and smacked in between a man's legs! Eponine felt her heart rise out of her chest and her stomach twirl as she wrestled away another hand. The desperate girl turned and took her leap of faith.

"You bitch!"

"You slut!"

"You will pay!"

She'd rather die than lay with these men.

Her head rushed many beats faster and she felt her hands enter the smooth water, but yet, hard water. Her head and body entered in with a smack. Pain rushed all over her body. Her arms and legs grew numb. She felt every bit of her skin rip off like a rug on a wooden floor. This was it. She was going to die.

Her world turned black and she lost her breath.

* * *

_Here, you see how far Eponine can take in her job. First, she steals and when that doesn't work, she prostitutes/cons people. It shows that she is really turning out like her father. But Enjolras may have seem a little passive here, since he doesn't really know how to handle Eponine, but he'll be more active in the next chapter. R/R_


	7. ACT I: Scene vi

**ACT I: Scene vi**

Enjolras believed he would enjoy his evening solely on his studies.

He had just come out from his bath and he placed on a fresh shirt and black pants. His tea kettle was boiling. The leaves gave his room a sweet and bitter aroma. His candles dimmed the room at a relaxing mood. The silk blankets were cleanly pressed against his bed. The pillows were perfectly arranged. His desk was neat and ready for his incessant scribbling of parchment paper. He even brought his favorite Robespierre book to read before he retired for the night.

But no! Jacques happened.

The small boy appeared at his doorstep, very frantic and disheveled, he might add, ranting and blubbering about something that Enjolras couldn't even comprehend. The man let the boy into his humble abode and sat him at one of the couches.

"Speak slowly, Jacques," he instructed, "Why is it that you are here?"

"Eponine! She's in trouble!" Jacques practically broke a wine glass with that shriek.

Enjolras grew a little peeved. "Did she get injured again? Who tried to hurt her?"

"No! I don't think she was hurt yet! My friends dragged me into a brothel and she was there wearing the most scandalous outfit of Paris!"

That was just part of the job description. In fact, when Eponine visited him, he suspected that her lack of clothing was from her prostitution. It still pissed him off till no ends.

"Jacques, Eponine chose this for herself. I want to help her as well, but she is not going to accept our asssistance." Enjolras tried to reason with the boy.

"But we know what's best for her and it's not this. Why can't we try to bring her back to her senses?" Jacques argued back. "Well, if you're not going to help then I'll just go myself."

The boy sprinted away.

Enjolras rubbed his aching head. That boy was literally trying to kill himself. Enjolras had been to the brothel multiple times, mostly to pick up Grantaire and Jehan as they were fooling around during their meetings. But the slew of drunken men and waiting whores was enough to wring his head apart. And he did not even witness the frequent gang violence there. Getting a little worried, though he wouldn't admit it, the man grabbed his jacket and ran in the same direction. Damn the both of them!

Enjolras tried to follow after Jacques, but the boy ran too fast. Already, Enjolras trailed a good distance behind him. He figured that that boy would get to Eponine before he did and drag her to Enjolras to show what a good job he did. Enjolras swore the kid acted like a little sibling at times. He wouldn't really know as he was the only child.

Enjolras reluctantly turned and went back to his apartment along the Seine River. He walked along the cobblestone sidewalk and kept his left hand trailing the stone rail. Sometimes he glanced out into the calm waters, which seemed to peacefully drift along its course yet he knew that one would die from the force of hitting the water or the frigid cold. His parents were always careful to not let him wander closely to the river. Anyone would die.

But, as if a miracle happened, he spotted a demure figure rising from the murky waters. This person was dripping of water and weakened by the force of the river. Her hands were shaking when she dragged herself onto the bank and her skin was blue. She coughed out a couple drinks worth of water before collapsing onto the bank, shivering and quaking.

Enjolras rushed closer to her and flung his jacket onto her body. Eponine never stopped shivering and she didn't even bother to see who her savior was. She was dying fast.

Wasting no time, Enjolras picked up her limp body, carried her in his arms, and rushed into his apartment. She needed warmth! He threw her onto his bed and quickly covered her with the warmest blankets available. Enjolras spared no time to even see if she was comfortable or aware that she was in his abode. He merely ran around his apartment and grabbed for anything warm, even the tea he had been boiling up. The tea kettle now resided under one of her blankets as a heating device. He even got a bunch of pillows from his sitting and smoking rooms, stacking them around Eponine's frail head, so she could rest more easily. The girl was still pale. Enjolras started a fire at his chimney by then. That should provide some level of warmth for her. Soon, Eponine's lips turned back into her sultry pink and were no longer blue. She still shivered, no doubt, yet she seemed a little bit more alive. After a few tense moments, Eponine finally moved a little in her sleep and curled up into a tight ball within her entrapment of blankets.

Enjolras sighed in relief now that he knew she was alive after that experience. It was weird. She should have died. Those cold and torrid waters would kill a man in a short time. Yet, she survived. She was a survivor. A shot entered her shoulder and now water into her lungs; these incidents would make Eponine live at least ten years longer. He clutched onto his chest, remembering the eight bullets that pierced his torso. He was a survivor as well. That day, at the barricades, he was supposed to die along with his comrades and Eponine was supposed to die beside her love. Yet, they both survived go live another day. He knew his purpose. He still has duties to fulfill to Patria. But Eponine? What was her purpose to continue living her wretched life? Why, after a failed love, a descent into prostitution, and extreme poverty, does she strive to keep living?

The blankets shifted off her leg as Eponine twisted and turned in her sleep. The slit of her skirt rode up to the top of her thighs, revealing the inside of her other leg. The sleeves of her chemise already slipped from her shoulders and now hung uselessly over her buxom. Her skin was pale and showed bruises, some which were pretty recent. She was thin, but her skin held a soft shape, build, and allure.

Enjolras couldn't help but blush a little bit when he hurriedly covered her up with a blanket. He was always a chaste man, even when surrounded by lovely women. Frankly, he blamed his father for that trait as that guy spoke of politics and government around Enjolras rather than the complexities of the opposite sex. Even so, Eponine resembled what he always thought of a natural woman: outspoken, gentle at times, rash on others, and a woman who encompassed all of France in her, in both strife and envy of her birth right. Now...if she was only easier to get along with…

Enjolras quickly snapped out of his incessant ogling of the sleeping girl. He should be in bed! Not staring at a woman he barely even knew! Enjolras left her sleeping in his bed and he slumped into a nearby couch. The cushions were as soft as his bed though they were very small. He would have to get used to them soon now that Eponine slept in his bed. And he didn't know for how long.

The next morning, Eponine awoke by the morning rays of light. The soft rays of warmth tickled her flushed cheeks and startled her closed eyes, gradually lifting her away from her slumber. She yawned and stretched her arms and legs, relaxing in the sudden comfort of a...bed? Eponine leaped right out, startled out of her mind! How did she end up in a bed? A nice bed? A nice bed with white silk blankets? This was not her shed! This was not her ratty haystack or her pile of pamphlets! This was actually a nice room!

Who brought her in? Was it for favors? Was it against her will? Eponine quickly checked under the covers of the sheets. It was white and there were no red spots. She sighed a breath of relief, clutching deeply onto her chest that only has a thin layer of chemise. She was safe. That's good.

The gamin girl checked under the sheets again to find the mattress a little damp and really dirty. There were streaks of dirt where she slept and at the end of the bed where her feet laid. She never noticed how dirty she was until compared with someone impossibly clean. Eponine glanced at the nails on her bare hands and feet, which her caked in dirt. She ran her fingers through her matted hair, only to find that crusts of dirt fell onto the sheets. When did she last have a bath? Last month perhaps?

Weary, the girl silently crept out of her bed and began to explore the premises. This place was lightly furnished as there was only a dresser and a desk. She pulled out one of the drawers to find breeches and trousers. A man. Of course. She ventured near the desk to find neatly stacked papers of scribbled French. She hadn't read her own language in a long time. In fact, her tongue mostly composed of argot that she found herself tripping over some regular French words when speaking to Marius. It was only because of him that she began speaking in regular French and only switched back to argot when talking to a member of her class. Eponine finally opened the door of the bedroom and ventured out into the hallway. Wait! She knew this place! She rushed out to the main sitting room and, just like that, all her memories flooded back into her mind. This was the bourgeois boy's place! In fact, he was on that couch!

She rushed out into the main sitting room as if anticipating if he was waiting for her. But alas, the man fell asleep and was now curled up on his couch. Eponine silently stood there and watched his chest rise and fall with each breath of air. A small tuft of his golden curls fell between his tense, closed eyes. The rest of his golden hair shaped his chiseled jaw, which also had a bit of scruff on each side. Eponine noticed that he'd undone his shirt by a few buttons, leaving a good portion of his chest exposed. She could see he was a man of fitness, as if he labored for a few years in the countryside. His shirt nearly stuck to his skin where the folds pulled at each muscle along his arms and chest. Eponine was always focused on Marius during those Les Amis meetings that she never noticed how handsome Enjolras really was. He was always giving out long speeches, stuff she never paid any attention, so she never noticed his presence as a whole. She wondered how he may have looked while wrapped up in revolutionary fervor: dark eyes from spending long nights to write his speeches, a tense brow from planning the rebellion, and sweat dripping down from his curls and around his muscles from the heat of his enthusiastic and grueling revolution. He would still be handsome. Suddenly, she felt so small standing beside him. He stood practically a head taller than her and he was well muscled while she was short and frail and skinny.

Eponine started to notice that his hands and shirt were slightly dirtied with...dirt, the same dirt coating her body. Was he the valiant rescuer? Did he bring her in from the river? Eponine grimly smiled, a distorted smile filled with confusion and gratitude. This man; why should he rescue a lowly gamin such as herself? She never truly figured out his passion for helping out the poor urchins in this country. However, she felt relieved that at least one person cared for her wellbeing. Eponine crept back into the bedroom, pulled off a blanket, scurried back to where Enjolras laid, and softly draped the blanket over his sleeping form. Finally, Eponine resolved to leave, knowing full well that her presence would not be welcomed.

"Mademoiselle, just because my eyes are closed doesn't mean I'm in slumber."

Eponine froze when his tenor-like voice rang into her ears. It was practically from the angels of music.

"I'm taking my leave, Monsieur." She croaked.

"To where? Back to the brothels that left you in the river?" He questioned.

She said nothing, but only shamefully turned her back to him.

This was a form of Eponine he never saw. He silently watched her wrap her arms around her body as a shield from the outside world. She was always upfront and confident in her abilities, not ashamed or very frightened. He even once heard, from Marius, that she was the hardest urchin to scare in all of France. Even so, she was now more demure than she previously let on. This girl was always full of surprises.

He walked up to her, unraveled her shaking arms, and pulled her into the dining hall. "It is the morning. Have something to eat."

"Monsieur Enjolras! There is no need!" Eponine gasped. "I can manage on my own."

"I won't let you fall back into the river."

"Monsieur!" Eponine frowned and yanked away her arm. "Do you think I'm that weak? I will not end my life so easily! I was just trying to escape from those vile men."

"Which gives me more of a reason to keep you from going back out there," he sternly replied and sat the girl down. "I don't have anything fancy. Just some bread and butter. Will that suffice?"

Eponine said, "Bread and butter is the caviar of my class."

He disappeared into his kitchen a brought out neatly cut loaves of bread and a spread of tan butter. Eponine's mouth began watering like a dog at the sight. When was the last time she had a decent enough meal? She never made enough to feed herself whilst paying back her debt to Montparnasse. Thus, she was forced to eat common gruel of who-knows-what inside. Eponine gingerly picked up a small loaf, spread some butter on it, and took a small bite out of the savory pastry. She beamed with delight and took another small bite.

Enjolras felt content sit in his heart once he witnessed her smile. He was glad. He was able to help one more person in his life.

"You're a very generous man." Eponine quietly said.

He simply replied, "It's my duty to help out a fellow comrade."

"Comrade? I don't recall being in your group of schoolboys."

"But you did help in building the barricade. A lady, such as yourself, taking part in a great revolution makes you a fellow comrade to me."

She blushed at his compliment. That was the first time anyone has complimented her. "As I am your comrade, let's be on friendlier terms. You don't have call me a 'Mademoiselle', Enjolras."

He gave a slight smirk. "As you wish, Eponine Jondrette. You have a charming first name."

"Do not make fun of my first name," Eponine said with a pout, "My mother got my name from a children's book. Silly, isn't it?"

"Why would I make fun of such a name? It is a fitting name for you."

"What about you? Do you not have a first name?"

"I do...but it's a bit embarrassing that I rather go with the family name."

Eponine smirked and pulled at his arm. "Oh come now! Enjolras! You can tell me! It's not like I have anyone else to tell."

After witnessing another pouting face, he finally relented. Enjolras leaned close to her ear, causing the poor girl to blush from their close proximity, and he whispered one word to her.

Eponine sweetly smiled once he pulled away. "That is not weird at all."

"I'd still rather prefer my family name."

Eponine pursed her lips at the mention of family. His mother and father must love their son very much to dote on him and he must be in good relations with them to go by his family name. She would kill to have parents like that. "How is your family?" She asked, growing curious.

"Filthy rich, if you couldn't already tell."

Eponine giggled. At least Enjolras was not as pompous about his wealth as some bourgeois people. The way he spoke about his social class was akin to one speaking of the worst mold under a porch: complete disgust. Was it his family that fueled his drive for a revolution?

"Tell me, Enjolras, is it because of your family that you want to change France?" Eponine asked.

"Partially," he admitted, "And I believe that France should be a free country where every citizen is equal in both law and society. For the monarchy has oppressed the country for far too long! The social classes are too unequal. The king and queen lounge in their castle, surrounded by enough food to feed France for months, while their subjects are forced to feed the king through in-despicable taxes and they barely have enough to feed their families. Such injustice is unforgivable! And politicians are too corrupt by the monarchy to do anything about it. The bourgeois class pays them off to keep their social class up. Only General Lamarque showed some sympathy to the poor, but alas, he is dead. No one has tried, in this year, to revive the republican movement ever since my rebellion. They don't have a strong leader. Jacques has the passion, but he lacks strength! If it were not for my guardsman, I could be leading the revolution once more with success!"

Eponine nodded at each word. And she made a mental note to never talk about politics around Enjolras. He spoke too much. He was dedicated. He loves France. He was a very passionate...orator. Whatever he just said to her at the table, he could have easily said in front of an audience. Eponine didn't know what to say to him, so she merely kept silent and nodded to each statement. How was she to respond? Her interest in her survival and well-being far outweighed her view on politics. For him, it would probably be the opposite. She, at least, remembered that he did not seem well nourished while manning the barricade for several days.

Luckily, she did not have to worry of her response as the doctor has arrived. "You requested for my attention?" Joly asked as he sat down beside Eponine and Enjolras.

"Why yes," Enjolras replied and pointed at Eponine. "I found her in the river yesterday. Her temperature was frighteningly low, so I wanted to make sure if she did not catch a cold."

Joly grew alarmed, "The river!? Do you know what exists in that river? Why! Human feces are the least of your problems! Have you given her a decent bath, Enjolras? I'm afraid that I will contract something from her! No offense, Eponine."

"I don't mind." The doctor was right. She bet she was leaving tracts of dirt on the floors of this apartment. Even when combing through her hair, a mix of dry dirt and fecal matter came out.

"Alright. Eponine, the bath is down the hallway on your right. Draw up a bath yourself. You must not have had a decent bath in months now." Enjolras instructed and let the girl out into the halls. "And throw away your dress. I'll buy you a new dress once I get back from school."

Was she going to wait for him in the nude? Eponine did not plan on doing so. "What am I to wear?"

"You can wear whatever is in my drawers. I imagine it's not your first time in men's clothing."

Eponine blushed at the mention. Even he knew that young man was her at the barricades. Well, compared to his comrades, Enjolras did seem to be the wisest one. Not to mention the most charismatic...and the most handsome...

She left the two men in the dining parlor and walked to the bath. She remembered her last bath was getting ready to start her job as a prostitute. She could hardly call that a bath since Montparnasse was just splashing water onto her face. Her last real bath would probably be her days as a gamin, living in the streets of Paris during the revolutionary fervor that swept the city. She managed to draw up enough water from the well and found enough wood to have a decent, warm bath. Now, she could bathe like the wealthy? Even when she was young, her worth only amounted to the upper middle class, who were barely scraping by. Enjolras was the wealthy; the upper-crust akin to a king. And it showed very well in his furniture. The tub was large and the plumbing was gilded on gold.

Eponine turned the warm knob and allowed the tub to fill up three quarters as she stripped away all her clothing. She never felt so relieved to be rid of those clothes. She was always freezing because the cloth was too thin and it was too ripped from eager men wanting to have her desperately. With caution, she dipped her dainty, yet crusted, feet into the lukewarm water before submerging one leg after another and then, her whole body. It was a relaxing feeling, to have water wash over all her dirt and shame so that she could start anew. Her chest and arms and legs were soaked. When she dunked her head, her hair was soaked. She cleaned up so thoroughly that dirty particles accumulated into the water. Her longtime bruises showed once more on her delicate skin now that the dirt washed away. She ran her slender fingers through her clean hair, now satisfied that there was no longer any dirt or fecal matter. She enjoyed this cleanliness that she was even afraid to step out, worrying that this bath may be her only one left. But her fingers began to prune and she reluctantly got out and dried off with a nearby towel.

Barefoot as always, she stepped back into Enjolras' room to rifle through his drawers. She pulled out a simple white shirt, which was two sizes too big for her, and a pair of his trousers, which was also two large for her to wear so she gave up trying to wear pants. Only in one shirt that barely covered her legs, she wandered around his humble abode. He was a neat person, a very anally, neat person. Not one pamphlet or book was out of place. His desk has all his writing utensils and study books in the correct places. Even his kitchen was organized correctly with spices in the correct order of origin and bread and butter placed in the same orientation. She didn't know he cooked. Enjolras was far more domestic than she previously thought, in fact, he may be better than her. Even though Eponine was forced to grow up fast, she took on her father's duties of swindling money whilst Azelma took care of the house.

She shivered slightly when a small breeze drifted into the room. The time of exploration wore thin. She felt a chill rise up from her spine and she scurried into Enjolras' bedroom, where she knew blankets were available.

"The man has much room in his bed..." Eponine murmured as she slid back into her previous sleeping spot. This bed was two sizes too large. She felt that her brother and sister could fit into the extra spaces. Tired Eponine reached out towards the empty space of her side. "Enjolras slept here as well," she realized and blushed because of her dirty mind imagining the two of them sharing the same covers. What was she thinking? It's not like she and him were going to share the same bed! Preposterous! She bet Enjolras would kick her out once she got better! He only rescued her because he felt pity for her plight. That must be it!

She hurriedly retracted her arms and pulled her body to herself. The image of a serenely sleeping Enjolras couldn't escape her head! Curse her wretched memory! Curse his angelically beautiful face! What if Marius was in his place? Eponine mustered up that new image, and finally calmed down her racing heart. Yes, she was still in love with Marius. Whenever she thought of Marius, she felt a great joy rise from her heart and her burdens lifted from her shoulders. Oh! How she wished Marius laid beside her and wrapped her in his arms like when she was nearly dying at the barricades.

Finally, she drifted off back to sleep with her delusions of Marius as company.

* * *

_Eponine and Enjolras meet again! And this time, it could be more permanent. There's not a lot of dialogue because this chapter is more Eponine-centric. She goes through a load of transformations: shedding her clothes, taking a bath, wearing Enjolras' clothes (teehee), etc. The next chapter is all about Enjolras and his republican agenda. Yeah, Jacques is probably going to complain a lot in the next chapter because he got ditched._


	8. ACT I: Scene vii

**ACT I: Scene vii**

"Enjolras! Enjolras wait!" Jacques followed his idol. "Enjolras! Where have you been? You disappeared after I went to find Eponine!"

"Eponine is safe with me. I'll see to it that she gets proper care for her injuries."

"Oh good!" Without a second word, Jacques pulled him aside and into one of the nearby cafes of the university. "Enjolras, the republican movement has not started yet! It is getting harder to hold meetings now that the National Guard is cracking down on us. We are beginning to lose followers! And it will continue until the party is left in shambles. We need to gather support fast."

Enjolras expected as much. Jacques, no matter how idealistic he was, he was still inexperienced as a leader. Enjolras couldn't blame him. The monarchy was so scared of another rebellion that the National Guard patrolled the university, hence, Officer Frasier's reason for trailing him. Sometimes, Enjolras put in a little of his advice just because he grew fond of the boy like a comrade. He still did not do much yet.

"I'll think of something." Enjolras reassured. "Now get yourself to class."

"Why yes, my political values shall be put aside for French Literature." Jacques sarcastically answered with a roll of his eyes. The reluctant boy exited the cafe and ran off to a nearby stone building.

Enjolras walked him out and was about to head to his own classes, but he spotted a strange man rustling the bushes near the building of Jacques' class. A prowler? A thief? Or was it an urchin? He came closer to see the man was hunched near a window, pressing his ear to the closed wooden windows.

"Monsieur! What are you doing here?"

"Ah!" The man fell, startled.

Enjolras' expression changed from suspicious to worry to perplexing. Why, it seemed that the man was a woman! And not just any woman! He saw her before this. He still held the pamphlet she gave him upon his hospital release.

"Mademoiselle? Are you alright?" Enjolras held onto her arm and yanked her up.

"I'm fine." She glanced up to him and blushed once their eyes met.

"I know you, you're the opera woman. Whatever are you doing here?"

She sheepishly chuckled, "It depends who's asking..."

Enjolras grew stern. "You know women are not allowed on university grounds. Now, would you like to tell me of your purpose here or shall I notify the National Guard?"

She panicked once he mentioned the guards. "Wait a moment! If you don't tell the guards, I'll give you free seasonal passes to my opera house!"

He didn't even smile. That woman must think him mad to fall easily to bribery. "I'm not interested in the arts."

"How about box seats?"

"Again, I'm not interested," Enjolras replied and he began to leave her. "I shall notify the National Guards now."

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" She frantically ran to block his path. "Come by my opera house: Opera Populaire. We'll discuss there!"

He sighed, "Very well."

She nodded and quickly scampered away whilst assuming the identity of a man once again.

Enjolras watched her and made a note to have some women rights put into the government legislature. He felt sorry that Eponine and this woman had to dress as a man to participate in such tasks.

Enjolras went through most of his lectures and classes with the usual treatment. His mind was not in classes for now. He thought mostly of Jacques political problems and, the woman and her theater. Even when opportunities suddenly show up like this, he knew how to take it as it comes. He may never have another chance again. Once classes were over, he walked to the theater house and a small apartment next to it. She was waiting for him at her front door.

"You came? Now why is it that you want to know of my visitation?" She demanded.

"I am merely a curious young man." Enjolras simply responded. He glanced around inside her home. "Are you a writer?"

She blushed and nodded. "I'm a playwright, not that anyone in France would know. I write under a pen name."

Perfect. "So you were at the university to learn more about literature, except, because you are a woman, you have to sneak in there," Enjolras deduced.

"You're a smart one Monsieur." She replied with admiration. "You're not the only smart one here. What do you want from me so I can get you not to speak of this?"

"Your theater. On what schedule do you run your theater?"

"Why, save for special performances, we have a show every other day for two seasons. The shows run from the afternoon to midnight. Why?"

He sighed and gestured towards one of her chairs. "Mademoiselle. Sit."

She did as told.

"Now...how would you like to be a part of the republican movement?"

Her cheerful smile suddenly flipped to a frown of uneasiness. He wasn't...he couldn't be...

She suspiciously asked, "Are you a...politician?"

"Yes...I'm soon to join the council."

She whistled, wiped her sweaty forehead, and fanned herself in that breather. Damn it! Why did he have to be a politician? And a good one too! He was a student, soon to graduate, and he managed to get a seat in the council? He either must be really good or have a lot of money in his name. But still, he was a politician. She knew very well that the arts and politics never mixed well.

"I don't know...Monsieur..."

"Enjolras."

"Right, Monsieur Enjolras. I'll have you know that I'd prefer to stay out of politics, especially anything related to republicans. Have you seen the National Guards lately? They will kill anyone related to the republic! They are trying to locate the students who partook in that rebellion. Ever since that dreadful event, every Parisian has been on their toes." The opera lady explained and pushed open her door. "Now Monsieur Enjolras, I would like it if you take your leave now and put all this behind us."

"If I do, then I can have a little chat with the Commander of the National Guard currently trailing me." He quickly said, causing her to pause just as fast.

She frowned even more, growing irritated with this man. "What do you want?"

"If you are rudely frank, I shall be frank as well. You allow some harmless student revolutionaries to use your theater as a meeting place after hours. In return, I will arrange for you to partake in the literature class you were just spying in on."

She narrowed her eyes. "What makes you think I will agree so easily? And just because I get to learn a little more, how does that justify our equal exchange?"

"Because, Masemoiselle, you have no other choice. From what I've heard, your theater production is a worthy piece of art, but it has not attracted enough customers. You might have your life's work snatched away from the government soon if you fail to produce a profit. If you allow for these young men to hold meetings on your property, they will bring in more customers." He replied with a small smirk once she sighed in defeat.

"Alright...but..." She gazed at him with deep intent and curiosity...as if she recognized him from somewhere prior to their previous interaction. "Hmm...Monsieur Enjolras? That is your name? I believe your family is one of the wealthiest of France, and yet, you fight to liberate the poor? I would not be surprised if you led the rebellion of June..." She trailed off for a moment as Enjolras amusingly raised an eyebrow.

"Have you finally figured it out? I am the leader of Les Amis de l'ABC."

"You! Are you mad? You choose to hold another revolution after the last one failed!" She exclaimed and began shutting every window possible in her house. The monarchy will have her head if they found out she just made plans with a wanted fugitive!

"Frankly, I'm not planning it this time. A fellow comrade has taken up my reins, even if he is a bit inexperienced." Enjolras said. "However, I still want to fight for the republican cause and I will do it on my own terms. As a council man, I will become a mole for the republican party, if necessary, and I will try to lessen the plight of the poor. France no longer deserves her oppression from Bonaparte's oppression. Patria weeps each day, knowing her people are suffering in her plight. I must uphold what General Lamarque left behind: his people."

The opera lady stood there, somewhat snapping back into focus. Did this guy just spend a good two minutes lecturing her about his politics? This was exactly why she never bothered when politicians courted her. They spoke too much of themselves. Now, this cool person she once found very attractive seemed…less appealing. Enjolras might have trouble finding a good, _patient_ wife, willing to listen to his incessant talking.

The opera lady replied, "Alright, alright. I will think of your proposition over this week and I will send a letter of my decision. But now, it is getting late and you must return home."

Enjolras agreed and stepped out of her home. "But one more thing, what is the mademoiselle's name?"

She paused and thought for a moment. "My real name, I wish to keep private, but my maiden name is Cherie. You may call me: Madam Cherie."

"Madam Cherie, I thank you for opening your theater to the party." He gratefully said. "And I need advice from a lady. What kind of dress would you buy for a small woman of early youth? She is a fair-skinned, dark haired lady with a rather small body."

So he does have a woman? Apparently, he has no idea how to handle them since he was asking such a ridiculous question. She replied, "Monsieur, I would buy a simple dress of a solid color. At this time, the season calls for light colors."

"Thank you. Good evening."

Cherie watched him walk away. The woman of twenty years shook her head and clicked her tongue. She'll have to keep a close eye on this man if she wanted to keep her head intact. And then, she closed her doors from the public.

Enjolras arrived back at his small apartment carrying a satchel with Eponine's new dress. Honestly, he had no idea what to buy her, even with Cherie's recommendation. He simply described Eponine's stature to the dressmaker and seamstress and they picked out the dress. It was a simple blue dress with a wide skirt and a narrow bodice, held together by a series of stylish buttons. He imagined it would be comfortable.

When he entered into his living quarters, he spotted Eponine curled up comfortably in his bed. Has she truly slept the day away? She wore one of his white shirts with the cravat undone to reveal the middle of her chest. She slept serenely this time, not as tense as the night he found her. Her locks of dark brown and black hair fell upon her sleeping brow. Her thin lips pressed tightly against each other, but her calm eyes remained relaxed. Her hands curled at her face and her knees folded up on her chest. He could see her legs and arms and chest clearly. Even with a bath, her skin was not clean. She still had bruises. A large one rested on the side of her upper thigh.

Enjolras knelt beside her and softly placed his hand onto her shoulder. "Wake up Eponine," he whispered into her ear.

She whimpered like a kitten before stirring awake. "Monsieur?" She rose up from the bed and sat up to face him.

Enjolras raised his cloth satchel. He pulled out a blue dress for her to see.

She only raised her eye in question and intrigue. "You actually bought me a dress?"

"Well I can't have you wear my clothes all the time." Enjolras simply replied. "Now why don't you change out of my shirt and try on this dress?"

"I don't know, Enjolras. Your clothing is starting to get comfortable after I've slept in it." Eponine coyly joked as she reached out for the dress. To screw with him even more, she slightly raised one of her legs and allowed his clothes to slightly fall on her leg.

As expected, he quickly turned around like a chaste statue of a man. "Your sense of humor is quite exhilarating," he sarcastically remarked, "Please change into the dress. I spent my whole afternoon trying to find one for you."

Eponine nodded, waited for him to leave, and then shed off his white shirt. Pity for such a man embroiled in fighting against the national army to have such prestigious shirts. She never understood the bourgeois class, especially him. Enjolras had everything in the world. His wealth would probably rival that of the king of France. Yet, he was willing to throw it all away to help people like her. She fingered through the dress he bought for her. She wore this fabric, a long time ago, when she was once the upper middle class. Eponine quickly slid into her new dress, allowing all the fabric to slide smoothly and snugly onto her skin. She wondered how much Enjolras explored her body. It was a perfect fit.

Eponine walked out into the seating room, where Enjolras was currently pacing around. "Monsieur?" She gave an awkward little twirl. "I wore the dress."

He could see that…clearly. The dress was, in other words, perfect…too perfect. For the places that her body was too thin, the dress shaped out what her body should have filled. The skirt covered up her shapely legs. That was the only detraction—what was he doing? He shouldn't be ogling a young woman like her! Eponine could come to the conclusion that he wanted something more, which was definitely not his intent!

"You look beautiful, Mademoiselle Eponine," Enjolras simply said as stoically as possible.

A slight blush rose to Eponine's hollow cheeks and she quietly turned her face from him. "Thank you…"

"The pleasure is mine." Enjolras awkwardly sat down while she remained standing. "Have a seat. Are you hungry? I can make something really quick."

"How well can you cook?"

"Enough." Enjolras took her hand and led Eponine into his kitchen. "I learned when I was little from the maids who worked at the mansion. My father was often away for business trips around France. My mother reprimanded me for learning a woman's skill, but luckily, she was often away."

Eponine solemnly asked, "So you grew up alone?"

"Basically…" He glanced at the curious young girl. "What about you, Eponine?"

"My family…?" Eponine silently gulped when a lump emerged at her throat. This answer was hard. "We owned a small inn in Montfermeil but because of certain circumstances, it went bankrupt. My family moved to Paris in hopes of a better life. It hasn't really worked out."

"Have you tried going back to your family? At least then, you'd have home." Enjolras stated, hopeful that Eponine would say yes.

"No. I live alone and I work alone." Eponine defiantly said and quickly changed the subject. "I'm rather adept at making stew very quickly. How about we eat that?"

For the next hour, the pair spent their time in the kitchen to prepare dinner. Enjolras was cutting up the ingredients and keeping the pot in check while Eponine multitasked between stirring, cooking, and washing up the dishes. She also busied herself with sneaking some of his silver utensils under her sleeve, which Enjolras immediately caught on and snatched back. What made this girl think that she was going to leave the next morning?

Now, they sat across from each other at the end of his table in the dining hall. Eponine already eaten her meal, knowing how hungry she will be in the future, and she was now sitting confused in his dining hall.

Eponine asked in the silence, "Enjolras, why are you doing this for me?"

"Eponine…what…"

"I don't understand you. You have so much wealth and power that you could turn the king of France into a puppet, yet you'd rather assist someone like me?"

"Eponine." He said again, this time much more sternly. "Not every wealthy person has to be selfish. I see the poor as the unfortunates of this corrupt government. That's why I commit my efforts in helping these miserable people. Why did you think I named my group Les Amis de l'ABC?"

Eponine smirked. "You're a strange man, Monsieur." She leaned in close to whisper in his ear, "Don't be expecting any favors."

"I don't have a single care about your whoring life." He responded back with the same venom.

"Strange and cruel? I did not expect this coming from you." Eponine finished and began to walk out.

But Enjolras grabbed onto her arm. "Don't think you can leave so easily! It's getting late. Joly is going to check up on you tomorrow."

"I don't take orders from anyone except myself." Eponine spat back and yanked her arm free.

Enjolras silently breathed hot air in exasperation. This girl was infuriating! Has Marius ever experienced this side of his shadow? She was one of the very few woman in Paris with too much attitude. This made her both intriguing and frustrating as a person.

Resolving to be rougher, Enjolras spared no more talk and grabbed her again by the arm and dragged her back to his bedroom. He ignored her protests and her struggling.

Eponine grew fearful once the man threw her onto his bed. She'd seen this scenario plenty of times back at the brothel. All those women did the act or they were raped. And she feared the second option. Her arms flew up into a defending stance, ready to claw him out if he dared to even get near her.

But he merely scoffed at her protective stance and left the room whilst slamming his door shut. "Have happy dreams, Mademoiselle Eponine."

What?

Eponine raced out to the door. She turned the knob once and twice and thrice. She even slammed her whole body against it.

Unbelievable!

"You did not just barricade this door!"

* * *

_Enjolras just can't resist barricading something and Eponine can't resist stealing something. They are meant to be! I like to write about Enjolras' seemingly uncaring nature to highlight his capability of being "cruel" and Eponine can actually be badass if she was not so lovey-dovey over Marius. Also, you now know the opera lady/narrator as Cherie, and she's still a bumbling lady, just not into politics a lot. R/R please? I would like some feedback!_


	9. ACT I: Scene viii

**ACT I: Scene viii**

The next morning, Joly came over to Enjolras' apartment just as planned. He did not question the marble statue placed in front of his friend's bedroom door or the fact that Enjolras slept on the couch. The jolly friend simply moved the statue out of the way and brought Eponine out. Joly prodded her body and arms, asked her politely to uncover her legs for a little bit, and he inspected the more ghastly looking bruises.

"So far, Eponine, I do not seem to find anything horribly wrong with your injuries. Please do not try to add anything on top of them." Joly reported, but gently turned her arm. "However, these are quite new. Was my dear friend rough with you last night?"

"She tried to escape back into the night. Nothing happened." Enjolras immediately said and glared a thousand suns at his dumb friend.

Joly threw his arms up in the air, as if in mock awe. "Of course! Of course!"

Eponine shot a glare at her capturer before readjusting her skirt. "Am I settled?"

"Yes. But I would recommend a few more days of rest and regular meals to regain your strength and figure. You are quite malnourished and weakened by your stay in the alleys. I would think Enjolras will give you sufficient care." Joly replied to her while smirking devilishly at Enjolras.

Enjolras merely sighed at his friend's attempt to mess with his nonexistent love life. Sometimes, for a doctor, Joly knew him too well. After seeing the damages on Eponine, he was not going to let her roam free again unless she knew how to really take care of herself. This was merely chivalry and courtesy on his part. He had no idea what Joly was thinking.

"Joly. How is Musichetta? Has your courtship been well?"

Joly lit up at his former mistress', soon to be wife's name. "Why yes! It has been wonderful! Simply wonderful! I could tell you more, but I'd be turning into Marius if I did."

Eponine suddenly perked up at his name.

"Speaking of Marius…" Enjolras retrieved his morning letters and showed the parchment to Joly and Eponine. "I just received his letter of return. He shall pay us a visit tomorrow for tea."

"Oh joy!" Joly replied, now enthusiastic that another comrade has returned. "What are the arrangements?"

"My apartment."

"Ah. I shall adjust my schedule accordingly." Joly tipped his hat at the pair. "Good day to you both! And Eponine, take better care of yourself and try not to contract any germs from these Parisian streets. You may have to go through ten baths before I see you again. I simply hate germs! And if Enjolras gets rough with you again, because he's a man known for his cruelty next to his beauty, don't be afraid to knock him down a little." He exited.

Enjolras' cheeks grew a bit flushed red at the remark. Eponine merely smirked and jabbed him on the side.

The young girl asked, "May I partake in your tea time?"

"I do not care." He shrugged and placed on a jacket and offered her his arm. "I am about to take a walk. Care to join me?"

Eponine relented and softly rested her arm onto his. "I thought you were a man of cruelty?"

"Only to those I deem idiotic, like half of my comrades." He replied as they walked out of his area. They strolled down a park and entered into a square. "And Marius."

"Don't say that of Marius!" Eponine exclaimed. "He is the light of my world! He is the most perfect being I ever met! My heart beats so furiously knowing that I will see him again!"

Enjolras stared at her in peculiarity. "Was he very nice to you when you two first met?"

"Yes! I remember it so vividly! He was my neighbor when I lived in Gorbeau House. I remember the very words I wrote in his pamphlet and the money he'd given me in my plight. From then on, I fell hopelessly in love with him!"

Hopeless…very much. Enjolras asked, "Have you ever thought that your love was a little…forged?"

"How would you know? You've never been in love, you chaste statue of marble." Eponine snapped back.

Touché.

"Enjolras, do I look presentable to him?" She anxiously gripped onto his arm.

"You look fine."

"No. My face is still bruised and I smell and my hair is still a mess!" She suddenly broke away from him, ran in front of him, and pleaded. "May I please borrow some money? I will return it! I promise!"

Women…Enjolras rolled his eyes. "Fine! Do what you must."

"Oh thank you Enjolras!" She gripped his hands in thanks before dragging him off.

For most of the morning to midday, they spent going in and out of stores of the square, Eponine was the one playing with jewelry, perfumes, powder, and other unnecessary things like shawls and parasols. Enjolras merely stood on the side and answered her incessant questions. Their conversations went like this:

She asked, "Would Marius—"

He answered, "Yeah" or "Sure" or "I don't care. Do whatever you please?"

Occasionally, the store attendant curiously asked if they were a newlywed couple. Those poor saleswomen were met with double glares from the man and girl and also, venom laced in their denials. Sometimes, Enjolras couldn't even handle this amount of useless shopping and resolved to stand outside while Eponine stayed inside.

"She is cute." Officer Frasier quipped from behind Enjolras.

Enjolras glared at him and pushed him away. "Have you been following me all this time?"

"It's my duty. Go write a complaint letter to your parents if you are irritated." Officer Frasier deadpanned and went back to the subject of Eponine. "Now, I did not expect you to start courting a woman. You were so disinterested in the opposite sex days ago."

"My thoughts have not changed. I am simply helping her. She is in love with another man."

"It is still out of your league to do this much for a lady."

Eponine finally exited the shop. She spotted a man wearing the National Guard uniform speaking to Enjolras. Panic rose to her chest. Was Enjolras discovered of his fugitive status? Was he to be arrested? She quickly approached the two men.

"Hello. Who is this?" She politely asked.

"Pardon my intrusion on your morning walk." Officer Frasier gently took her hand and kissed the knuckles. "I am Officer Frasier, Commander of the National Guard. I am also Monsieur Enjolras' childhood friend. We grew up together in Paris."

"It's nice to meet you. I am Eponine Jondrette."

So she was the urchin girl he heard that Enjolras kept a keen eye on. Well, Frasier did not doubt him. She was stunningly beautiful. Her hair shone dark brown, with hints of chocolate strands, against her tanned skin. Her face was round with almond eyes and a gleaming smile, even when stressed. Although…now that he knew her name…she became much more of a mystery.

"I shall take my leave so you and the gentleman can enjoy your day."

Enjolras scoffed once the man left.

Eponine awkwardly whispered to him. "You never told me you had connections with the National Guard."

"I don't. My parents do." Enjolras took her arm and led her in the opposite direction. "You would not believe this, but he is the same man that shot me back at the barricades."

"I see…so your parents paid him off?"

"Basically."

"I see..." Eponine awkwardly held up her satchel of purchased goods. "Enjolras, are you slightly angry I spent your money on lavish things for myself?"

"Not really."

She shot him a look.

"Alright, yes, but I'm always irritated of these things. I don't exactly see how one's possessions define a person. But, as long as you're happy and not throwing yourself over a bridge, I'm willing to downplay my wishful thinking."

She scowled and sharply jabbed him again in the side. "You are quite cruel, Monsieur! It's strange that such a cruel man rests behind a pretty face. Did you know your comrades called you 'Apollo' because you were too pretty?"

"Please, they'd call me that if not 'Chief'", he replied with a roll of his eyes. "You said your name came from a children's tale? Or could you possibly be thinking of Epona? If so, you wouldn't be laughing now, would you?"

Eponine chuckled again, "I wish I knew."

The pair arrived back at Enjolras' apartment suite. Interestingly, in the amount of a day and a half, Eponine had already grown accustomed in her new living arrangements. And by "arrangements", she slept in Enjolras' bedroom and he moved out to the sitting room along with his school books and pamphlets. His clothes remained in his dressers since he had a good amount of clothes while Eponine only owned one dress. It happened that fast.

Enjolras thought that she was just in the rush of meeting Marius again.

And she was. Eponine spent most of her time playing around with her powders and perfumes that Enjolras opened all his windows to let the fumes out till his whole apartment grew chilly. She even interrupted him a few times during his studies to ask if her appearance looked fine. He had to temper down his annoyance to even answer her. This is what happens when you give a woman, crazy about her love, money to exercise her love.

When the next morning came, Eponine was freaking out over her appearance while Enjolras took that time to take a nice, long walk to retrieve Joly. The kindly doctor came with some herbal treatments. His solution finally calmed her down.

Enjolras sighed when Eponine became a little more active. He took the woman by her shoulders and sat her down. "I think you need to sit and breathe."

"But Enjolras—"

"Enjolras is right." Joly quipped in. "You shouldn't stress so easily."

"Marius is coming soon!" Eponine complained.

Enjolras wandered if Marius always had a negative effect on Eponine and her thinking. She took a bullet for him! Marius was in love with Cosette, not her, and she still denied her own life for him. Did Marius just dumb down everyone around him? Or was Eponine's love for him sickening her?

Knock! Knock! Joly started to open the door.

"Hello friends, may I present to you...Pontmercy!" Jacques swung open the door in a grand flair, much to everyone's disgust.

"Jacques...no need for that..." Marius sighed and beamed once he spotted Enjolras and Joly. "Mon Amis! It's great to see you again after so long!"

"Your little outing was too long as well! You know you'll be graduating later than us!" Joly said. The jolly man wrapped an arm around Marius and gave him a nice, hard pat.

Marius glanced over at Enjolras. "You look different..."

"How so?"

"You're more tense than usual. Is something bothering you?"

"No." But something will...

Eponine leaped out of her seat and raced to join the men. She gleamed at the sight of Marius, as Enjolras noticed, and she cheerfully spoke, "Monsieur Marius! I'm so happy you're alive!" She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug.

Marius absentmindedly stared at her. "Forgive me. Remind me who you are? I don't seem to remember."

Eponine gasped, "Don't you remember me? 'Ponine? Rich boy?"

Marius' eyes suddenly flickered with the memory and he hugged her again in happiness. "'Ponine! Eponine! You look so different, so beautiful. I'm so glad you're alright!"

Eponine smiled and nestled herself back into her love. Enjolras merely groaned and motioned for Joly and Jacques to follow him into the smoke room. He'd rather not witness the ensuing gushes about love.

"Ponine! I can't thank you enough for what you've done! You saved my life. I thought you for the dead! I'm so happy you are alive. I don't know how I can repay you!" Marius clasped her hands in his and gripped with each statement.

Eponine shook her head. "Don't. Your happiness is payment enough. And we are back together again."

"Yes! My oldest friend!" He said with a smile, unknown that those words shattered her heart. "I want to properly introduce you to someone. Without you, our union may have never happened!" Marius got up, walked over to the door, and opened it to reveal a woman with a rather large belly.

"Marius! The bread and apples were on sale. I'm so lucky I bought some before coming here." Cosette placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

The lark! Eponine's eyes widened and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat to let the husband and his pregnant wife sit.

"Eponine. Meet Cosette, my wife and the woman I asked you to find last year."

Eponine grimaced a smile. "It's a pleasure to formally meet you." She also shot the blonde a menacing look when Cosette realized her identity.

"Marius. I hate to cut your reunion short." Jacques called from a nearby room. "Enjolras calls for you to join us."

"Right. I'll leave you two ladies and let you get acquainted." Marius courteously kissed Cosette again on the cheek and Eponine on her knuckle before excusing himself.

Once he was gone, Cosette quickly hurried to Eponine and enclosed her into a tight hug. "Eponine! I'm so glad you've been well all these years. I was worried you'd starve in poverty or your father killed you or something worse!"

"Lark. Unhand me." Eponine awkwardly, but coldly said. "Why do you care so much of me? Didn't I hurt you and treat you like a house slave once?"

Cosette's gentle face never fazed. "Eponine...You were a child and you didn't know what you were doing. I admit; it hurts. But I realize your and Azelma's torment was due to your parents. I felt very anxious when they were around me as a kid."

Eponine scoffed, "If it makes you feel better, you married into the bourgeois, my family has fallen into destitution, my maman is dead, I've been thrown away into the brothels, and Azelma is forever stuck with my papa."

"It doesn't, Eponine, I'm very worried about you," Cosette sternly asserted. "My papa has always taught me to forgive, even to those who don't deserve it. I will forgive you for your past actions...if you are willing to let me..."

She was so sincere like the only ingenue left in France. Eponine knew of Cosette's father. He often visited the poor to give away food and money to those in need. It seemed that Cosette was continuing his legacy as she dressed quite homely for a typical bourgeois girl. Her hair was prim and proper and natural. She wore no jewels. She wore no poofs or lace or beads. She too gave away her riches. Eponine found it hard to believe such people existed. She thought in every person, there was always a little dark mark. Her papa taught her that piece of advice.

"Tell me, Cosette..." Eponine stalled while the doe-eyed blonde listened. "If I asked for you to give up Marius to me, would you?"

"Eponine..."

"If that was the only thing that could make me happy for once in my wretched life, could you do me that favor?" Eponine demanded this time.

Cosette's lips trembled with fragility and loss of words. "Ep-Eponine. Marius fell in love with me by his choice. He's not someone, an item, to just give away. He's the love of my life. I didn't have the friendship that grew between you and him, but our love is truly genuine. So, Eponine, can't you at least cherish your friendship with Marius?"

"No." Eponine lashed out, startling her. "You don't know the pains of unrequited love. You don't know the pain of watching your one soulmate fall in love with someone else or a man you've pined for many years be taken away in a second. It hurts! It hurts like daggers stabbing into your stomach, like pistols shooting through your chest. I've been nursing this pain for so many years! Every day, I'd watch your love with him and I die a little inside. Now can you see why 'friendship' won't save me?"

"Eponine..." Cosette grew soft once again. She tried to touch her childhood acquaintance, only for the brunette to harshly rebuke her advances. For once, Cosette grew stubborn and latched onto Eponine's arm to reel her in. "Eponine Thernardier! Please rethink this through! Why do you only look at Marius, and not me? Or the man housing you? Or the man tending your injuries? Or that sweet boy who worries for you? Why can't you see that all these people love you and care about you?"

"Those people only need me because I have connections within the poor that can help their movement! Marius was the first who actually cared about my wellbeing daily." She was now crying.

"Eponine! Don't think so rashly!" Cosette scolded. "Please stop looking at the negatives and realize that there are people who care and love you."

"If you loved and cared for me, you wouldn't have married Marius," Eponine bitterly said. Her tears streamed down her sullen cheeks and she rubbed them away with her sleeve. Her heels moved on their own and she sped right to the door.

A loud slam of wood against wood shocked Cosette and alerted the gentlemen. Joly and Jacques came with worry and confusion. Marius was simply worried for Cosette while Enjolras wondered about Eponine's lack of presence. Dear Cosette tried to chase after Eponine, yet her stomach bump prevented her from moving without the sheer back pain.

"Cosette, dear, don't strain yourself." Marius comforted her.

"But Marius-"

"Joly, can you please check if my wife is alright?"

Their fellow doctor nodded. "Of course Marius." Joly led Cosette up from the sitting room and brought her to Enjolras' bedroom.

"You should go with them." Jacques suggested, "Enjolras, I'll return back to my home and focus on my studies, as you suggested. Credentials can get the credibility I need from our fellow students. I'll alert you if I see Eponine."

"I'm going to find her before she gets herself killed again," Enjolras grumbled as he began to head out.

Marius looked like he was freaking out. "Killed again? Eponine? She was fine before!"

"I found her in a river days ago. She must have jumped." Enjolras explained and urgently ushered Marius into his bedroom. "Go be with your wife. Bearing your child is a burden upon Cosette so the least you can do is stay by her side." With that note, the handsome blonde rushed out of his flat.

He searched as much of Paris as possible. He asked many passing people if they'd seen a bourgeois looking girl, probably in distress, running around. Their reactions ranged from a simple no to complete confusion to disgust and a look of disdain. He didn't care of his own image. He worried too much of Eponine and her wellbeing. On the bright side, he checked most of the bridges that crossed the Seine and none showed her presence upon them. Enjolras continued his search even when the evening dwelled upon him. Joly even approached him in the square of Musain, telling him to return home and search again in the morning as the rain was pouring. The doctor patted his shoulder and rejoined with his mistress, Musichetta back at the cafe.

However, Enjolras let the rain seep through his golden vest, his white shirt, his purple jacket, and his boots and pants. His locks of golden hair fell down from its usual bounce, like a flower wilting from a lack of life. He could feel the horrid rain drip down onto his cheeks and eyes, giving the illusion of sorrow. She turned so fast from an energetic child with a precocious crush to a girl with lost fantasies and dreams. He felt pity for her.

That's why he must find her.

"Achoo!"

Somebody was out in this rain? He spotted, in a dark alley, a crouched figure huddled against a building with her back turned towards him. Eponine. Her eyes were red and her shivering arms wrapped around themselves. She lost herself once again in her sorrow. Enjolras softly spoke, "Eponine. Come back inside or you'll catch a cold."

A soft sniffle erupted from her. "No. It's better out here for me." He couldn't see her tears when in the rain.

"Eponine. Don't be ridiculous. With all your injuries, you can actually die from staying in the rain. Now come with me...or shall I drag you back." He heard nothing from her so he merely took it as a no and grabbed onto her wrist.

"Unhand me!" Eponine angrily declared, "Why didn't you tell me Marius was this serious about Cosette? They have a child in her stomach!"

"You know very well that they are married. If I told you to give up your fantasy of him, you wouldn't listen."He roughly sighed. "Look, Eponine, the truth hurts. But you were going to have to face it and move on-"

Slap! Eponine's fingers and palm sharply met his cheek. He was dazed for that moment. The slap was just sinking in. He didn't realize she even had the audacity to do that! This girl was more spirited than he expected.

She glared at him and growled, "What gives you the right to treat me like that, knowing everything I've been through?"

Enjolras stood there and thought through her words. Who knows? Maybe he didn't want to ruin her happy moment? Or he thought she could handle the truth? Or she needed to break back into reality, no matter how much it hurts for her.

Enjolras softly took her arms, much to Eponine's surprise. "Eponine. I'm terribly sorry for what I did. I should have considered your feelings first and told you everything about Marius. Please forgive me."

Eponine froze against his hold. She'd never seen this before; his humility. She thought of him as any typical proud bourgeois boy who was unable to accept their own mistakes. But Enjolras was different. Not only did he care for the lower class, he thought of himself as lower. Could she change her mind about him? Eponine softly laid her hand upon his, finding that the hand was ice cold. Did he spend most of his day looking for her? Now guilt washed over her, knowing that she became his burden.

"I forgive you," she sighed. "I am too wrapped up in my fantasies. I know that. I just wanted to have that little hope, at least, that Marius would appreciate all that I did for him. I guess it was too good to be true."

He didn't reply back about that. "Let's go back."

Eponine tried to follow his steps, but she staggered a bit in her pace. Her dress was a little torn at the hem and it was soaked and dirty with mud. Her ankle showed through the tear, revealing a purple swell on her skin. The girl turned pink when she noticed that Enjolras spotted another injury. "I tripped and fell," she explained.

Enjolras spared her no words. He merely held her back and her legs, scooping her up into a bridal hold. Eponine felt her heart jumped a bit once she was lifted off the ground. His hands planted firmly on her back and most of her body laid upon his muscles for support. She could feel his firm body holding her frail self. She never knew of his true strength. He could probably lift her along with Gavroche on her lap!

"Y-You don't have to carry me Enjolras. I'll tire you out and it's late." Eponine stammered, embarrassed that her weak side showed clearly in front of a guy like him.

"You can't walk." Enjolras pointed out. "And you're quite light."

"Enjolras!" Eponine blushed and tried to not look at him face-to-face. However, her eyes naturally gravitated up to him. The rain highlighted more of his features such as his curly damp hair, his stubble chin, and his skin through his transparent chemise. He truly was Apollo.

The pair made it back to Enjolras' flat, discovering their visitors were long gone. Enjolras brought the frail girl back into his bedroom and gently laid her down. "You need to stop running impulsively around Paris. You'll get yourself killed." Enjolras sternly reprimanded, "Now let's see that ankle." He knelt down to examine her foot, which was luckily only a slight bruise.

"I'm in the clear?" Eponine hesitantly withdrew her foot, but once her legs lifted her skirt, she finally saw the disrepair of her new dress. "I'm sorry Enjolras...I can try to fix and clean it."

"Don't worry. I can buy a new one."

Eponine frowned. "How much is my debt to you? I'd rather not increase it."

"There isn't any debt. I just want you to change your life." Enjolras stood back up, awkwardly coughed, and adjusted his collar. "I'll leave now. Get some rest."

He left Eponine on his bed and retreated back to his probably permanent bedroom, his sitting room. Enjolras leafed through some papers and envelopes on his coffee table, surprised that Joly decided to pick up his mail during today's fiasco. There was a letter from the French government, probably a notice for his inclusion of the council, and an unknown letter. He opened the unknown letter first. The handwriting was fine, too fine, to the point of calligraphy. And the parchment was aged to a fine dusty yellow. This person must be wealthy. Enjolras realized the second paper was a letter from the government, informing a seizure of property. The aged letter read:

_Dearest Monsieur Enjolras,_

_You win. I decided to take up your proposition. Please meet with me tomorrow in the cottage next to my theater._

_Madame Cherie_

Enjolras smirked, satisfied that Cherie agreed to cooperate with him. He worried that she was going to be hesitant because she was so ingrained into her world of the arts. But now, she became quite an unexpected ally.

Luck was finally on their way.

* * *

_Writing a completely love struck Eponine was probably the funniest thing for me. I based off her behavior from typical crushing teenagers who like a guy, cry when the guy doesn't look at them, and their moods flip back and forth between romantic and despair. Don't lie. It's true. It's part of the phase. Luckily, she gets out of it in one chapter because she spends another day in the rain. (Rain is a very important motif) Also, Marius and Cosette are reintroduced and they're starting a family! I actually like Cosette, even though all she did was exist and did next to nothing; I wanted her to be innocent, generous like her father, but passionate. Marius…is going to be a dandy boy…for a while. R/R please!_


	10. ACT I: Scene ix

**ACT I: Scene ix**

The next morning, Enjolras woke up to the natural sunlight bathing on his face. He was starting to get used to it. Back in his old bedroom, he woke up to whatever time he set in his brain. He never relied on sunlight or pocket watches to tell time. He got up from the couch, stretched his tired back, and headed to check up on Eponine.

"Eponine?" He knocked.

"Come in! I'm awake."

He found her sitting on his bed, wearing one of his shirts again, and sewing her dirtied dress. She greeted him and turned back to her cloth work. Eponine luckily found a small sewing wrap buried in Enjolras' items so she resolved to repair the torn hem of her dress. Back when she lived with her family, she had to repair their torn raggedy clothes while their mother was busy conniving with their father. Sometimes, she and Azelma would get into a bad brawl once their charade was uncovered, leading to frequent rips and tears in their dresses. Eponine quickly taught herself to sew and she learned enough to make decent clothing. The girl held up her repaired dress.

"It's fine work, Eponine."

She shrugged, "It's still dirty. I'll try to wash it later."

"There's no need." Enjolras quickly said. "I am going to head out and I wish for you to accompany me."

"I don't have anything to wear." Eponine gestured to his worn shirt.

"Wear the dirty dress for now and I'll buy you another one on our way there." Enjolras waited for her to take off his shirt, which he swore she already worn them all, and wear the dress. He took her arm into his and they strolled out the door.

"Enjolras? Why do you want me to come?" Eponine asked as they walk. She, unfortunately, was forced to lean on him as a support as her ankle still hurt. Her steps became strange limps across the road, and sometimes, Enjolras had to hold her other hand to get over bumpy sections.

"I want to show her that I'm serious about my cause. She has been in Paris for quite a while so she can probably recognize you from the streets as a beggar."

"It's a woman? And I'm just a display?" Eponine angrily sucked in her lips.

"Look Eponine, I'm sorry that I'm using you like this. But she holds the key to success so please bear with me."

"I'm buying the most expensive dress, you hear."

"That's understandable."

"With jewels!"

"That's taking it too far. I don't have that money with me right now."

Eponine stuck out her tongue and she went into a dress shop. Enjolras went in as well, but he stayed far away from Eponine as she rifled through racks of maroon dresses. Sometimes, a saleswoman would ask if they were together, which both vehemently refused. When Eponine dressed up again in a clean maroon dress with white lace, she immediately dragged him to a jeweler's shop. But, instead of looking at hair accessories, she mainly focused on rings.

"You know, Marius and I once went in here together. He was selling away some of his family jewels to pay the rent." Eponine sighed as she gazed at the many rings. "I remember looking at these and wondering which one he'd buy for me. Silly, isn't it? I was quite set on the silver one over there." She pointed out a small simple ring that held four diamonds; a large one in the center with three surrounding it like a rose bouquet surrounded with small peonies.

"We should go." Enjolras awkwardly tugged onto her.

"Hello, are you here to buy an engagement ring for your beloved?" The jeweler asked and winked at the couple.

"No, we're leaving." He led her out of the shop and down towards a theater.

"Now what was that about?" She teased and laughed.

"Nothing. I'm just not familiar with romantic gestures." No. More like he was allergic to anything remotely romantic.

"I noticed."

They finally entered into a small cottage next to the theater. A lady with auburn hair and a red and black dress greeted them from her doorstep. "Hello. Come in." She allowed Enjolras to kiss her knuckle before looking at Eponine. " You must be Monsieur Enjolras' lovely wife. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"W-Wife?" Eponine stammered as her face became red.

"Huh?" The auburn lady glanced at Enjolras. "I thought you said you were married."

He glared at her. "I never said such a thing!"

"Isn't the dress for her?"

"Oh dear," Enjolras pushed Eponine forward. "Eponine Jondrette, meet Madame Cherie."

Eponine studied this woman's face. Her face was round and softly angular, like a heart. Her lips were red and plump, ready for a kiss. Her eyes were of the lightest brown whilst her auburn hair cascaded down in bouncing waves to neatly frame her heart shaped face. She was tall, nearly matching Enjolras' height, and her red dress accentuated her slim and long figure. Cherie was a beautiful woman. Eponine felt envious that this woman was so beautiful, regal, and well kept. Even when Eponine wore a nice dress and dressed in jewels, she still felt like a gamin of the streets. But so, even though her beauty came first, her identity came second. Eponine frequently robbed this woman. She stole over fifty francs from her.

"Umm...nice to meet you." Eponine awkwardly replied.

"Have a seat. I will fetch you some tea and cake." Cherie headed to her kitchen.

"I'm leaving." Eponine frantically stood up.

Enjolras pulled her back down into the chair. "Why is that? Have you two met?" He stared into her chocolate eyes as if an interrogation was happening.

Eponine blushed. "Um...remember back when I begged in the streets and I used to steal...? I primarily stole from her."

"Well, that's more of a reason for you to stay and participate in our discussion."

"Enjolras!"

"Married, you may be not, but belligerent partners, you are so." Cherie poetically piped in as she returned with three cups of tea and a plate of cakes. "Now then, let's discuss matters about my theater."

"I received your notice. The king has issued a seizure of property of your theater if it does not meet its expected revenue. Tragic."

"This theater house is my father's gift to me. I shall not let it go to waste." Cherie sternly replied as she pushed a parchment across the table. "This is my schedule. A few showings during a week for a season, whether by my theater's acting company or a another troupe. In between showings, actors often rehearse the entire day or before the show. I request that you and your republican friends do not interrupt my actors' time here. You may only exist in my theater at the same time as my actors if you are attending a show. I'd expect you and your wealthy connections would attend to boost my revenue. Also, you may come into the theater as many times as you wish as long as I am notified of your presence."

This is perfect. So far, everything was going well. "Have you selected part of your theater for us to use?"

"Why yes, you may use backstage." Cherie got up and walked towards a rather large mirror. She removed a golden pane and slid the glass out, revealing a hidden walkway that led downwards. "My father built this for me so I can traverse quickly to and from the theater."

"Your family must come from great wealth to have built this." Enjolras peered down the rather short tunnel.

"Wealth and also societal class. But my family is only well known in the cultural entertainment circle. You know, the one which you politicians scrutinize on a daily basis."

"You can't hold that against me as I have not entered the circle."

"But you will soon." Cherie gestured to the tunnel. "Shall we go?" She retrieved a small candle and traversed into the dark tunnel.

Eponine followed closely behind her and Enjolras trailed behind her. The young gamin girl felt a sense of worthlessness next to this lady of the arts. Cherie was beautiful, sweet, and she got along well with Enjolras, even if they came from different backgrounds. Was that why Enjolras wanted her, specifically? He could have asked anyone to house his meetings and he asked this woman? Was this affection coming from the human statue of marble?

"Here we are!" Cherie announced.

The room was made of stone and wood. It was quite spacious with a second floor constructed by wood and a spiral staircase. Along the walls were props and settings for the stage. Extra curtains hung from the walls along with masks and costumes. They headed upstairs where there were pillows and small couches for the actors and actresses to rest on.

"How do you think?"

Enjolras said, "It's perfect."

"I'm glad to see that you're satisfied." Cherie glanced at Eponine, who was also shocked at such a space. "And the lady's opinion as well?"

"Me?" Eponine questioned and pointed at herself in that manner.

"Yes. You. I think a lady's thoughts are just as important as a man's. Isn't that right? Monsieur Enjolras?" She shot a glare at him.

"Whatever you desire..." He sighed. She cared too much of social standings than the imbalance of classes.

"Why...I think it should work well. I mean...I've only been to a few meetings."

She smirked. "Just try not to steal anything from these boys. Alright?" Noticing that Enjolras and Eponine were both gaping in amazement, she pointed at her ears. "My house is silent. I can hear everything you say."

"Madame Cherie, I assure to you that Eponine is going to repay every sou." Enjolras quickly stepped in. However, by instinct, he placed a palm in front of Eponine as if for protection.

"I don't care. She obviously needed it more than me." Cherie shrugged. "However, I learned that her hands are pretty nifty in the act of pickpocketing. She's stolen from the bourgeois even before they knew of her presence. Such act requires swift and precise fingers. Say Eponine, are you perhaps in search of employment?"

"Employment?" Eponine repeated in a daze. Is this woman offering a job? Could she finally escape from being a prostitute and a beggar and perhaps live a normal life? She glanced at Enjolras. He did not show much emotion about this news. He's been housing her for the past week. They've grown used to each other's company. She even cleaned his house for him! Was he satisfied that she was able to support herself? Or a little disappointed?

"Well, the choice is entirely yours. But here's the address for the man. He works in an old bookshop around the corner from here. He's in dire need of an assistant." Cherie handed Eponine a small envelope containing a sole piece of parchment. "Well then, I hope you enjoyed the tour here and I shall show you out the door. Rehearsal begins in a few minutes, I'm afraid."

"Eponine. Why don't you go ahead? Maybe you should check out the bookshop?" Enjolras suggested.

Oh. He was making her leave now. Did he possibly want time with her alone? Eponine merely agreed and she took her leave.

Cherie's merry face suddenly turned into a scowl. "Spit it out. What was the point of bringing her here?"

"I wanted to show you that assisting the lower classes is beneficial to us. One of the common beliefs of our classes is that helping the poor only wastes our time and money. I plan to change that misconception."

"I respect your intentions." Cherie sighed. "But I don't condone using a woman like that. I worry for Eponine because of you."

"She's a strong girl. She dressed up as a man to fight in the barricades. I have never seen a woman with that degree of courage."

"But still, she nurses a broken heart. She may not be as strong as you would think." Cherie answered and noticed he was looking at her weirdly. "It's a woman's secret." She sighed, "Just keep Eponine into your consideration. Okay? You best hurry after her."

He nodded and took off to follow Eponine. She did not venture far. She traveled as far as Cherie instructed; around the corner to a vintage bookshop. The girl stood outside, dazed at the dusty window in front of her.

"It's closed today." Eponine said.

"Maybe next time..." Enjolras took her arms and led her away.

"Enjolras, do you think it's a good idea for me to start work?"

"Yes," he replied. "You will be productive. You won't have to mull around my flat in boredom all the time. And maybe, you can gain some skill in your field of expertise. I know I will have to do that once I graduate."

"Will that man take in woman who was once a beggar?"

"I believe that you can get the job as long as you have the skill. You're the only other gamin I know who can steal so artfully."

Eponine felt her head flush red, both with envy and embarrassment. "Who is the other person?"

Enjolras cracked a small smile. "When Les Amis de l'ABC was still in full operation, we'd get volunteers from all parts of Paris. Students, workers, and fellow citizens; they all came to contribute. However, before you, there was one another gamin; a cute little boy named Gavroche."

"Gavroche!" Eponine exclaimed, "That's my little brother! Oh Enjolras! Please tell me he is alright."

His grin cracked a little, which she easily took as horrible news.

"No. Unfortunately, Gavroche died. He tried to gather more ammunition without our consent. He climbed through the gaps of the barricade and was shot by a National Guard officer." He remorsefully recounted.

At first, Eponine wore a blank daze. Then, it turned into a strange mixture of sorrow and anger. She was quickly to raise a fist and pummel him square in the chest. "Why didn't you stop him? My little brother is dead! You could've saved him!"

"Hey! Hey Eponine!" Enjolras caught her wrist before she could land another hit. "Look! I tried. We all did. Everyone was devastated. Courfeyrac; the most once poor Gavroche passed." His lip trembled as a new wave of anger took over him. "But we both have to move on. All my friends are dead! Have you forgotten that?"

"You have Joly. You have Marius!" Eponine argued. "Gavroche was the only family I had left in my life. Now he's gone."

"What about your family?"

"I already told you! I don't want to go to them."

"At least you'd have somewhere to go!"

"I never had a home!" Eponine cried out in frustration. "Gavroche lived out in the streets longer than I did. He was the only home I truly had." She shook her head and quickly turned her heels. "Let's go. I don't want to stay out any longer."

He agreed and followed after her back to his home. Enjolras noticed that Eponine seemed to distance herself farther from him. Why was it that every time they spoke to each other, it always ended in an argument? Most of the time, he blamed it upon Eponine's erratic tendencies in her behavior. Other times, he blamed it on the dumb things he said to her. Almost all the time, he let her get away with anything. But this was one of their largest arguments. Will she finally shun him?

"Eponine," he tried to say. "Is there something about your background that I should know? Maybe I can help."

She froze. "There's nothing to know."

"Eponine. You're bothered by something in your past. I can see it."

"There's nothing!" Eponine snapped. She huffed and grabbed a shawl. "I'm going to sit in the garden. I need air."

Eponine angrily stomped down the stairs and finished her tirade with a loud slam of the front door. She glanced up and noticed that Enjolras watched her from his window. He's been getting too curious lately. Well! Let him! She already warned him that her past was not pretty! But as she walked farther into the garden and sat herself on a bench, she felt a pit of guilt in her stomach. She didn't want to take her anger out on Enjolras, but it sort of happened. She never expected Gavroche to die, even though she never kept checks on him. The shock was too great for her to bear.

The gamin girl mulled over these thoughts silently in the garden. She only brought her attention back to her surroundings when a tree branch broke followed by a series of familiar footsteps.

"What do you want? Montparnasse?" Eponine called.

"Mad, are we?" The narrow man slithered up to the cast iron gate.

She spotted his blades of choice clink ferociously against the iron. Eponine shuddered, but she maintained composure. "Why wouldn't I be? You tried to sell my body, you son of a bitch!"

"You still owe me!" Montparnasse snarled. "You have a debt! Remember?"

"Wasn't that debt paid with your last tryst with me?" Eponine snapped.

"They took it back because you ran away!"

"And you couldn't?" Eponine scoffed. "I thought you made quite an infamous name for yourself before me. I guess not. I still reign the strongest in our pair."

His crooked frown tightened into a grimace. "You bitch! You wouldn't even be here if it were not for me. You owe me every sou I put into you."

"After what you did to me, I don't owe you anything! It was your own fault you lost that money!" Eponine shouted and spat in his face. "Consider our ties forgotten. Now get out my face."

Enjolras peered out of his window a second time. What was that noise? And who was Eponine speaking to?

"Bitch..." Montparnasse glanced up at her residence. "It's a pretty nice place you got, Eponine. How much is he paying to sleep with you?"

"Don't bring him into this!" Eponine snarled. This time, she fisted his collar and roughly pushed the wretched man back.

Montparnasse smirked in realization. "Oh! Must he be the man you fell in love with last year? But that man is married. Tell me, 'Ponine. Are you still trying to latch onto bourgeois men who, you know, will abandon you once they get the chance?"

Eponine shook her head. Despite his logical reasons, Montparnasse was a liar. She knew first hand. "No."

"How can you be so certain?"

"He said so!" Eponine growled back. "Leave!"

"Eponine? What are you shouting at?" Enjolras approached them. At first, he thought Eponine was speaking to a beggar. But once he came closer, they were arguing in a completely different language similar to French. He also did not look like a beggar. This man was well kept. He wore a suit and hat, something not of the alley. Even closer, he heard some familiar words pop up from their chatter like: "And ya sure? Abandon ya fo chance, them bourgey crooks."

"Enjolras!"

He glanced at the pair, concerned for her. "Eponine. Is this man troubling you?"

She huffed and glared at Montparnasse. "Yes. He is."

Montparnasse snickered and spat back in argot. "What? You think that you have the upper hand because you somehow seduced a bourgeois boy? Don't be foolish, 'Ponine." This time, he spoke to Enjolras in regular French. "And you: why do you continue to protect her? Do you know of her past? Her family? Her name? I tell you, it's ugly. She will leave a permanent stain in you. So I advise that you be cautious around this girl. She'll end up using you like she used me."

"Get lost!" Eponine lost it. She picked up the nearest rock and chucked it right at him.

"Eponine! Calm down!" He held onto her shoulders, trying to make her stop.

"And she has the worst tempers." Montparnasse clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You can dress up a gamin, but you can't ever beat the street out of her."

Enjolras narrowed his eyes at this despicable man. He already placed Montparnasse on his execution list. "Leave my property or I'll call the National Guard to arrest you."

"Oh I'll leave. I believe three thousand francs shall get me to budge."

Enjolras took out a bunch of bills from his pocket and threw it at the man. "Leave and never come back. Whatever Eponine owes to you has been paid."

Enjolras didn't even wait for him. He just took Eponine back into his home, promptly locked the door and closed all the windows. "Eponine. Who is he and what did he want with you?" Enjolras demanded.

Eponine murmured, "He's a despicable man who I never want to see again!"

That's not the answer he wanted. "No Eponine, I know that you know him. You spoke the same tongue."

Drat. He was too smart for his own good. Eponine nervously glanced into his worried orbs of blue. What was going to be his reaction if she told the truth? Confusion? Disgust? Pity? She didn't want any of that. "I struck a deal with him before the winter season. If I conned a bunch of drunken fools by becoming a prostitute, then he'll give me shelter and warmth." It wasn't exactly the whole truth, but it was good enough. She couldn't tell Enjolras that she was connected to her father's group of thieves.

He watched her facial expressions carefully. Her eyes were drawn downwards. Her lips squeezed into a pink line. Her head was casted away from him. She was a terrible liar. But by her stance, she didn't want to tell him. She wasn't ready.

Enjolras sighed. He could play dumb for a little while. "Fine Eponine, I'll believe you. But you're hiding something and I'm going to find out even without your consent."

"Why are you so passionate about my past?" Eponine asked with bitterness clogging up in her throat. "It's all in the past. Even I've forgotten about it."

"No you haven't."

"And how would you know about my feelings and thoughts?" Eponine spat back. She hated this; his way of worming into her life. "Sometimes I doubt you have any emotions of your own. You are a statue, as your friends described, a marble statue that refuses to change. You've treated everyone as your pawns: Madame Cherie, Jacques, and even Marius. They're just part of your plan of revolution. I don't think you even care what happens to them, like all your other friends from your last revolution!"

Somewhere during that rant, Enjolras felt the instinctual drive to snap her neck and be done with her. Instead, he angrily slammed his palm into the wall behind Eponine, pinning her defenseless body against the wall. He lowered his head to hers and growled, "Don't even go there..."

"You don't terrify me." She defiantly glared. "I've never seen you mourn for your friends. I've been weeping for my Gavroche and you don't even bat an eye. What a cruel bastard you are!"

"You're not in any position to be judging me! I can and I will throw you out if you say another word!" Enjolras threatened.

Eponine glared one last time before storming into his or her room. Screw him for his dominance! She huddled into the sheets and dug her own head between her knees. Again and again, she told herself that the past was the past. Her world was dark. It always was; swallowing her up until she became nothing. She promised, the minute she ran away from her home, she would lock up her horrible memories of her past and make her own world. Even if it came back, she would run away. That was always her plan: to join Gavroche in the streets.

So why did Enjolras have to make it his problem as well? It didn't make sense. He didn't make sense.

Unbeknownst to the gamin girl, she ran in such a hurry that the door remained unlocked. Enjolras snuck a peek through the slight crack, only to catch sight of her fetal form. She was vulnerable, so much so, that anything could make her fly off the handle. He closed his bedroom door and he retreated back into the sitting room.

Did he cross the line too much? Enjolras only threatened to throw her out to top her comment about his friends. So therefore, she crossed the line before he even took a step. But if he threw her out, he would undermine everything he worked towards for her; for his revolution.

Enjolras chuckled under his breath. Cherie was right. He was using her all this time. And Eponine allowed herself to be used so she could escape her life.

They were both individuals, only human. Nothing was ever equal between them. They existed to feed off of each other, like the rats in a common gutter, like a whore and her customer.

And the night began for these two housemates.

* * *

_And so concludes another chapter. You get more E/E interaction, even though they just argue a lot and will continue to argue. This couple is the polar opposite of M/C because they united over broken souls while M/C united over cheerful love and stuff. And Cherie makes another appearance, where you feel she is a modern insert character. She advocates for women's rights. She is independent and is her own employer. And she recognizes all the problems that went wrong at the time, kind of like a metafictional character. She plays a passive and neutral role as the commentor, as opposed to Jacques and Officer Frasier. That's all I have to say for footnote analysis. Please read and review!_


	11. ACT I: Scene x

**ACT I: Scene x**

_"Gavroche? Gavroche!"_

_Eponine was back in the streets, wandering around in her rags of clothing and her sullied feet. The girl spotted a small boy running by, a small boy of wheat hair and a blue vest. She tried to call out at first to this boy. He was her brother, Gavroche. For sure..._

_"Gavroche!"_

_Eponine ran after him this time. "Gavroche! Oh!" She screeched once she stepped forth around the corner, only to find her brother's dead body lying across a pile of furniture._

_Why was the barricade standing? Didn't the National Guard tear it away?_

_With her tears streaming her face, Eponine tried to run away._

_"Where are you going?" Her father snarled and yanked her back. "You're supposed to be working. Now do your dirty work, you little slut!"_

_Eponine did what she usually did; she lashed out and tried to land a mark on her bastard father. He was gone. In his place was Montparnasse. The brute man pushed her to the ground till she was only on her knees and hands. His fingers went to the brim of his pants and began to undo the buttons. "Do it!"_

_"No! No!" Eponine pushed him away, but he kept coming closer. "No! No! No!"_

"No...no...no. No. No! NO!" Eponine gasped. She abruptly sat up, fingers curled into the sheets and her hair messed up everywhere. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. She breathed a million breaths in her gasps. It was only a dream...a horrid dream...but a dream nonetheless. Her trembling fingers felt her side, only to be met with empty blankets. Azelma usually laid by her side so that the sisters could comfort each other on a bad night's dream. Eponine bit back the anger and pain and softly cried into the pillows. How could she go back to sleep?

Eponine swung out of the large and empty bed and crept silently out of the door. The flat was quite dark. She lit a candle on the way. Finally, Eponine made it to the sitting room where Enjolras was sleeping soundly. How was that possible; to sleep on such a narrow mattress? His head rested on a couch pillow while one arm flailed over his curly locks and the other rested on his heaving chest. His feet were up on the arm rest. An open book laid flat across his stomach. And, as usual, he refused to button up the top two buttons of his cravat, leaving his chest bare. When Eponine crept closer, till she was only a breath away, she observed his usually tense face. Even in his sleep, he still wore a frown.

Eponine grew of envy. He was too beautiful, like an angel. It was impossible for a man to be more beautiful than a woman, yet he managed to accomplish just that.

She snaked her arm across his stomach, a comfort pillow he became for her. Whenever she grew sick from the nightmares, a hug with Azelma brought her back to her senses. Eponine, for once, felt the safety net wrap around her, promising to keep the demons away.

"Goodnight Azelma. I'm sorry, Enjolras." Eponine murmured.

When Enjolras awoke in the morning, he felt an uncomfortable weight across his stomach. After assessing his surroundings and getting accustomed to his grogginess, he finally noticed a small body knelt at his side. Enjolras could only sigh in a mix of exasperation and amusement. Oh Eponine...what did she want from him? One moment, she wished to leave him and the next, she cuddled herself up to him. Enjolras gently moved a wisp of her dark hair that slipped between her eyes. Her eyelashes were long and her cheeks were rosy pink. She was pretty, beautiful even, when calm and not puffing in anger or sorrow.

Enjolras slipped an arm underneath her legs and another arm on her back, lifting her up from kneeling beside the couch. Her back will ache if she continued this sleeping position. He set her in his place on the couch, which she surprisingly fitted in considering his couch was rather small, and he closed the door of the sitting room to give her space.

Maybe this time, he could go back to his bedroom and get some work done. Even though he allowed Eponine to sleep in his bedroom, he would rather get his work done on a desk rather than a low table. Enjolras already had his books and utensils gathered under his arm and he silently crept back into his room. He first took notice of the messed up bed sheets and her second dress strewn on top of a mirror. At least she wasn't messy-messy. He feared of what would happen if she garnered more items.

Enjolras settled himself at his desk and was fully prepared to work...until three knocks sounded from the oak door.

"Can you work better in here?" Eponine said and leaned beside the door. She only wore a light nightgown that went down to her knees. At least, it wasn't one of his shirts where the bottom hem nearly covered her butt. She awkwardly shifted her feet and kept her glances at the floor. "Would you like your room back?"

"No, I offered it to you."

"I feel horrible." Eponine murmured. "I'd rather live on the streets again rather than leech off of a good man."

"There's no need for guilt, Eponine. I took you in on my own free will." Enjolras replied. "If you wanted to repay me, you should take the job Madame Cherie recommended."

"I will." Eponine sighed. "Enjolras...I apologize for yelling at you yesterday. It was rude and ungrateful of me. I was just in the shock of Gavroche and my family and my past..."

"Hey, it's okay. I understand."

"Really?"

"I have a past that I'm not proud of as well. I wouldn't want to speak of it till I'm comfortable. You can just tell me what's troubling you when you deem it right." Enjolras softly patted her shoulder and escorted her back into his room. "Now, do me a favor and change into your day clothes. We should pay Cafe Musain a visit before you head off to your job and I go back to school."

Eponine nodded, allowed him to leave, and quickly slipped on her plain blue dress. Nowadays, she preferred to wear this dress rather than her gaudy maroon one. It reminded her too much of Marius.

"What are we doing at Cafe Musain? And are you not allowed there due to your little rebellion last year?" Eponine didn't know what this trip could represent. Did he want to reminisce old times sitting in that café, surrounded by friends, and death in that same café? Or was he searching for solace?

"It's heavily guarded. But Musichetta works there. She'll let us slip in for a drink or two." He knocked. "Are you ready?"

"I'm ready." Eponine opened the door and exited his flat with him.

The two traversed through Paris as they normally did. Eponine slung her arm around the crook of Enjolras' arm. She kept her distance. He led her along the journey.

Enjolras finally broke their mutual silence. "Joly will be there. So will Marius and Cosette Pontmercy."

"Are you asking if I'm ready to face them?" Eponine shot a look at him.

"I did witness a spectacular meltdown two days ago."

She squeezed his arm _hard_ for that one.

"I'm asking as a safety precaution, woman. For all I know, you can be wandering in the alleys again just by seeing Cosette."

Eponine's lips turned downwards. "You're not letting me go for that." And she dug her nails into him this time. "I assure you that I can handle this." She was still in love with Marius. She knew that. But she just had to deal with it.

Enjolras winced as the pain shot through him from his arm. She was pissed. And her nails were the talons of an eagle. "Would you mind relaxing yourself?"

"My apologies, _monsieur_." Eponine gave her usual smirks to him.

Café Musain, which was once a horrible memory, soon became a distant reality coming closer. The café was nearly identical to what it was before. Pine graced the walls, stairs, floors, tables, and chairs. The stairway was restored, even when Enjolras himself chopped it to pieces. Customers still roamed about the premises, unaware that a bloody slaughter took place a year before. Even young students from the nearby university hang around as a meeting area with friends. Children played with their parents as they stopped by for a cup of tea, served by Musichetta, who took over her mother's role.

Joly was with her, drinking wine along with a few of his medical-majoring classmates.

Enjolras would remember that Combeferre would be beside his medical class as they approached the café for the weekly Les Amis de l'ABC meetings. Enjolras needed his guide. So he patiently waited. Courfeyrac would come back and Gavroche eagerly ran up to hug his knees. Once the leader, the guide, and the center came in; the rest simply fell in place. Bahorel came in while dragging in Grantaire, promising a drink's pay if Grantiare wasn't dead drunk already. Finally, Lesgle, and Jean Prouvaire came in at the same time even if they came from different sectors of the university. And Fueilly arrived all on his own after working in his shop of fans. And Marius was late. As usual. Eponine followed after him. As usual.

However this time, Enjolras was the last to arrive, taking Marius' place, as Eponine trailed along with him. Marius was already there along with Joly, the remnants of their historical group, and with him was Cosette, his future. She warmly waved them over, one hand waving and the other resting upon her swollen belly. Marius was speaking with Musichetta and Joly, but he also spotted the pair approaching the café.

"What are you doing standing there?" Eponine asked the couples.

"We'd love to head in. But Enjolras is banned from ever entering Musain." Both Joly and Marius snickered while Enjolras sent his usual demeaning glares.

The blonde man stuffily relented, "I'm not interested what's inside. I'm here for what's on the outside."

He headed off to a small alley beside Musain, where a tiny garden was starting to grow in a small plot of land. Eight small and wooden stakes were placed along eight growing shrubs; one for each Les Amis member and one for Gavroche. Their bodies were dumped away by the French government. They were traitors. They did not deserve a proper burial. So the remaining Les Amis did what was possible to preserve their friends. These fragile shrubs became an endearing memory.

Eponine never knew these wondrous men so she prayed for Gavroche's wooden post. She glanced over and noticed that Joly, Marius, and especially Enjolras were engrossed in their silence. They stood at various wooden posts. For example, Enjolras spent most of his time at a post named "Grantaire". Eponine knew that guy as the drunk of the group. They would have gotten along. Eponine was quite the drinker herself. They could have had drinking parties…maybe drag Enjolras along towards their downward spiral to hell. Eponine knew of Combeferre as the man under Enjolras. He'd follow the orders given by the chief and command the crowd as he pleased. Courfeyrac babysat Gavroche. The rest became a blur to her.

Cosette knelt down beside Eponine at Gavroche's post. "Do you miss him? This particular boy?"

"He was my little brother." Eponine coldly replied. She still did not dare to look at Cosette.

"I wish I knew these men." Cosette whispered, "Sometimes, Marius would wake up to nightmares of that night. Or he'd slip into plights of sadness and despair. Papa never told me what happened that day. I don't know what I can do to help him besides hold him in our sleep. He wouldn't even let me come with him today. I wish I could do more for my love. So I came out here to learn more, the pit of his sorrow."

"You were lucky to avoid this. I was there." Eponine recounted the men containing guns and bayonets. They were a force to be reckoned with as they climbed the barricades to kill those behind. She couldn't feel or witness much; only that Marius threatened to blow up the barricades. And her feeling was lost once she fell into Marius' arms.

"You knew them. And you're alive now." Cosette patted her back. "Enjolras is fortunate to have you as a companion."

"He's only an acquaintance. There's nothing between us."

"But you're helping each other to get through this obstacle in life. That's what counts."

Eponine gave a shy smile. She reached forward and gently rubbed Cosette's protruding belly. "Do you wish it to be a boy or a girl?"

"Marius and I both want a girl. She will be named Fantine; after my mother. But if it's a boy, we will name him Jean; after Papa and Marius' savior." Cosette's gently place her soft hands on Eponine's. "Do you think these are good names?"

"They're wonderful."

Eponine's envy for her grew stronger. But she didn't try to act upon it this time. She merely accepted the fact that Marius' world kept turning without her. Cosette was his life. Not her.

She will still love him though.

"Ladies" Marius reached down and picked Cosette back onto her feet. He did the same with Eponine, but his hands lingered a little more for the former gamin. "Eponine. I'm so glad you came here with us. You don't know how much this means to us."

"I'm sure it means a great amount." Eponine sighed. "Take good care of each other. Or else, my efforts would have gone to waste."

"Actually...Cosette and I were discussing this." Marius' grip upon her hand tightened. "We would be elated if you were to become our child's godmother."

Eponine froze. There was a potential that she had to take care of a child that's not her own. Suddenly, the world ceased to spin and she was pulled back into time along with Cosette. Eponine was the eldest daughter of Mme. Thernardier. She was the quickest to pick up their devious tricks. And she was the first to start bullying little Cosette. This idea was doomed from the beginning.

"I'm sorry. I'm going to have to decline your offer."

"No 'Ponine! I insist!" Marius sternly said.

"Eponine. I'm fine with it." Cosette smiled, baring her twinkling whites. "And I know you're nothing like your parents."

Eponine smirked and clicked her tongue. Oh Cosette! She always believed for the best in people. What a wondrous talent, indeed. Maybe that's why Marius fell so in love with her. "Cosette...are you sure?"

"Positive." And with a surprising smirk the blonde ingenue, Cosette leaned in for a whisper. "And we were thinking Enjolras would make the perfect godfather."

"Why yes, the both of you make a good family. Maybe we can even leave our child with you every once awhile." Marius teased.

"Oh! Stop it!" Eponine hissed.

The newlyweds snickered playfully of her frustration. And luckily, saving Eponine from any more strife, Enjolras stepped in.

"Eponine, we must leave now or we'll both be late." He then addressed the confused Marius and Cosette. "Eponine has been offered a job at a local bookshop."

"Oh Eponine! That's wonderful!" Cosette exclaimed.

"Could it perhaps be the old bookshop in the main square of St. Michel? If it is, then you have quite a noisy customer." Joly hinted, remembering that loud woman reprimanding an old man during work.

Eponine's smile cracked. Rowdy customers already? She was already used to dealing with these people back when she worked in a brothel and even when observing her parents' inn. These people were the most troublesome and she didn't want to deal with it.

"Good luck, 'Ponine!" Marius congratulated her as Eponine walked out along with Enjolras.

"I swear. That Pontmercy boy gets more unbearable the longer he's married to Cosette. No offence to her, but he needs to is a memorial and all he talks about is his baby!" Enjolras muttered to her.

"I've been hearing about the baby as well. They want us to serve as godparents."

"What?" The blonde Apollo exclaimed incredulously. "I don't think I'm suited for that job."

"Neither am I. But both of them seem so adamant." Eponine sighed and she promptly detached herself from him and entered into the store. "Thank you for accompanying me here."

"Would you need me to pick you up?"

"No." She sternly said, "You've done too much."

Enjolras knew full well of her stubborn nature. It was like his stubbornness except multiplied by the tens. One time, she offered to cook dinner for the night so he could study. He doubted her. They argued. And the next thing, he was banished to Joly's flat while Eponine called in Musichetta for help. The dinner was okay...Joly remarked it being something Musichetta would make. Enjolras let Eponine have her fun. But he then limited her time in the kitchen in hopes she won't cause an accident. That was his way: let her do whatever and intervene when the time was right. So he simply walked away and headed to his classes.

On the other hand, Eponine lifted her trembling hand to push open the door. Her breaths quickened. Her knees began to quake. What will the bookshop master think of her? Even with all these decorations, could he look past her to find a street rat?

The bookshop was quite old, dusty, rusty, and falling apart. Eponine swore the bell fell once the door tapped against it. She silently stepped in. "Hello?"

"Eponine!" Auburn haired Cherie greeted her and turned back to an old man. "Maurice, this is the woman. She is very skillful with her hands and she can probably sew up some books."

"A gamin with sewing knowledge?" The old man bore his eyes into her, digging up her insides and her secrets.

"I've sewn clothes..." Eponine shyly begun.

"But these are books." Maurice retrieved an old unfinished manuscript and plopped it into Eponine's hands. "If your hands are as skilled as told, I expect this to be done in ten minutes."

"What are you waiting for? Get to it!" Cherie ushered her.

Eponine felt like she was thrown into yet another world of unknowns. She clambered to the nearest table and struggled to even thread the needle. Maurice just wanted her to sew this book together. It can't be too hard. She just had to do it quickly and not make any mistakes. When the needle first punctured the pages, Eponine was surprised the texture was that of butter. Smooth and soft. The needle quickly made a tunnel between pages. Now, she must make everything consistent. Using her worn out hands, she precisely determined the next incision for the continuing loop. She thanked pickpocketing for the precise spot the pick a pouch was crucial for the act. Soon, after a few tries, she finally gained a true understanding and she quickly finished sewing this stack together.

Maurice carefully inspected each stitch. He held it up close, held it far, and even flipped through the pages. "It's not bad for your first try. The beginnings a little rough, but you got the loops down."

"Does this mean..." Eponine grew hopeful.

"Report back tomorrow. I have many lessons to teach." Maurice stood up and left for his workroom in the back.

Cherie gave a celebratory pat on the back. "Congratulations." She praised, "You've excelled better than I would have expected. Monsieur Enjolras picked the right woman to have by his side." She bent down to pick up her books, but Eponine suddenly clasped her hands.

"Thank you so much! You are the angels plucked down from heaven for helping me!"

"I wouldn't go that far. I just needed someone to get Maurice's arse moving so my scripts can be finished."

Eponine's head tilted. "Pardon?"

"For someone who's knowledgeable of the streets, you are quite naive about people and social situations." Cherie sighed. "Maurice is old and he's been lagging on his work. He refuses to take any help unless they have skilled hands for it. So I picked you after you picked my pockets a few times. You need money and I need my manuscripts. It's a win-win situation. I helped you with the intention of helping myself. We, as human beings, don't do selfless acts unless there is a good reason."

Eponine hitched her breath and narrowed her eyes. She took her comment back. "So what's the point of telling me this now?"

"Hold on. I'm just warning you. You can be taken advantage of and you wouldn't even notice." Cherie even pointed to the university. "Such as that student revolutionary, Enjolras. He could be using you by helping you. Don't be so surprised if you find out."

"I'll take your warning into consideration. Thank you." Eponine icily replied and gave a curt bow. "Good-bye and good night."

What did that woman take her to be? An idiot? She lived on the streets! She grew up in those streets! Reading crooks and beggars' intentions was her second nature! When she was a kid, Eponine could pick out weaklings and the bullies and she shaped her whole childhood through that. Why was she quite a survivor in the first place?

And what was Cherie implying about Enjolras? Their relationship was too ambiguous for that matter. One minute, they act as if they were foes forever twisted in the opposition of their ideologies and the next; they act as if they were drinking buddies reuniting in a bar. Besides, if Enjolras was up to something, Eponine would be the first to notice. As far as she knew, Enjolras was just a guilt-ridden man trying to absolve his torture by helping a gamin like her. Sure his intentions were selfish, but she got food and new clothes and a roof over her head so she was just as selfish.

And she was not jealous! No! Eponine was suspicious. Cherie had her own agenda just as much as she suspected Enjolras did.

On her way back to Enjolras' apartment, she bought some bread and meat using his allowance. Knowing that her tenant was filthy rich anyways, she saw no problem in giving the change away. Sometimes, those beggar boys brought her a gift in return.

"Something for you." A small boy placed an envelope in her hand and quickly scampered off just as he came.

Eponine recognized this handwriting. It was Azelma. Her letters came whenever she wrestled time away from their father. Since Eponine was able to run away successfully, Thernardier kept his only daughter on a tighter leash. And it seemed those leashes had tightened, as the letter stated, as Azelma could no longer leave the house without an escort.

The worried elder sister kissed the letter and hid it within her dress. In her last letter, she promised she would get Azelma out of there and they could run away where no one would find the two sisters. Knowing her father, he wanted a price and a price Eponine shall give. Attaining a job was her first step. Knowing the price was the second.

"'Ponine. 'Ponine. You've cleaned up very well." Montparnasse appeared from Paris' darkest shadows.

"I'm not here for you. You got paid off so I'm not obliged to anything." Eponine sneered. "You still run messages to my father?"

"Depends on the message."

"Deliver this: I want my little sister. Name his price. I'll pay. Alone. And don't you dare mention him."

Eponine quickly left Montparnasse and both went their separate ways.

Officer Frasier silently watched from his guard. This woman...pretty as she may be, she revealed her true colors when away from him. He smelled rotten in Eponine. She was someone to report to the Enjolras household. Even though she'd done nothing wrong by his standards, such as swindling his money; by "their" standards, she was the poison of their status. She was unacceptable. So he made note of this in a pamphlet and continued his guard.

Eponine finally arrived back and sat her groceries on the dining table. Enjolras was in the sitting room as usual. His books and his papers were spewed out upon the coffee table. His brows knit in the usual fashion and his palms formed fists to rest his lips on. He was thinking. He assumed this usual stance when in deep concentration, just like a statue. She figured to not disturb him. As gentlemanly as he seemed on the surface, he held quite a temper.

Good thing that her temper was just as bad. So she wasn't afraid.

"Enjolras." She shook him out of his trance.

He irritably muttered, "What do you want?"

"Go rest in your bed. You're obviously stressed from today...whatever it is that happened."

"Pardon me, Eponine, but I'm not at all comfortable being in the same bed as you."

"I'm not going to be. You can have your bed back." Eponine nearly got him onto his feet until he sat himself and her down.

"Eponine..." Enjolras said her name in that usual condescending tone, the one used whenever she tried something he didn't approve. "Where are you going with this?"

"I saw you sleeping on the couch this morning and you seemed so uncomfortable." She worried for him on some occasions. He already did so much for her...she wanted to return the favor for once...even if she had nothing to give.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"Enjolras..." She easily matched his condescending tone. "You've been up every night working on your studies and plans. And here I am doing nothing. The least I can do is give you your bed back."

"You obviously need it more than me." He argued.

"Oh stop being such a martyr." Eponine rolled her eyes and this time, she clutched onto his arm and pulled him up. "I can sleep on a pile of bricks and be comfortable. You can't even fit on this couch! Now go to bed. I don't need it."

Enjolras promptly sat her down. "Except these never really do disappear" He lifted one of her sleeves to reveal a long time bruise. "It's for your health. You're still too thin. You can freeze."

She quickly yanked her arm away. "I don't need to be chided about my health. I told you, I can take care of myself. And besides, your health is getting worse each passing day." Eponine jutted her finger up to his face, as if it were a command given by the chief himself. "Now go back to your bed…or I'll sleep with you out here."

They had a long stare match where Eponine was forced to stare into his ocean eyes. There was definitely beauty in his eyes. She didn't mind getting lost in them. Too bad he was going to have to put up with her chocolate marbles. They were nothing to brag about and nothing to look at. So Eponine easily won.

Enjolras gave a reluctant huff and he stormed back into his returned bedroom.

Eponine smirked. He must have been very tired to succumb so easily. She silently followed after and closed the door once his body fell into the mattress. She herself fell into the couch soon after. It was warm still from his heat. She felt no cold. She felt satisfaction instead.

* * *

_Cherie gives Eponine a bit of sound advice. And both Enjolras and Eponine's plots begin to converge into one. Soon, they may start meddling in each other's affairs while other extraneous characters goad for it to happen. Read and review please? Also changed the story summary because it seemed a bit too...cliche?_


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